


The Ties That Bind

by Siss007



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-12-11 18:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 91,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11720076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siss007/pseuds/Siss007
Summary: AU that starts the day before Rory's 21st birthday. Jess needs a friend when his world is turned upside down and Rory needs someone who knows her better than anyone.





	1. The Girl

Jess walked out of the bookstore that had agreed to stock his book. He still wasn't use to calling it  _his book_ , but there it was, a printed documentation of what fell out of brain one night when his thoughts became too much and he had no choice but to write it down.

The next day he planned to make his way to New Haven to see Rory. He needed to show her that he had changed. She needed to know he was different now, if for no other reason than to thank her for seeing past all the walls he put up. She saw him behind the chip that was fixed on his shoulder and the mask of not caring he wore so well. She knew who he could be even before he knew, even when he was an angry kid who couldn't open his mouth and say what he wanted. She said he could do more and he finally had.

He initially begged the owner to carry  _The Sub-Sect._  The bookstore sold the ten copies and made a second order. His business partners, Matt and Chris practically dragged Jess to the bookstore in Woodbridge when the owner reached out to Truncheon Books and asked Jess to do a reading and book signing. So now here he was, back in Connecticut promoting his book as the author.

He was about to get into his 2000 Honda CR-V he was forced to buy when his rust bucket of a car died three days after getting him to Philadelphia. Jess took it as sign as it was loaded on to the tow truck that perhaps this would be a more permanent situation than the dingy apartment he had been crashing at in New York.

A young girl of about twelve with curly dark hair and a ridiculous looking bike helmet stopped him.

"You Jess Mariano?" The girl said.

"Last time I checked" Jess turned around to see the girl in glasses and long curly hair. "I don't want Girl Scout cookies."

"I'm not selling anything." She said. "I need your hair."

"Excuse me," Jess was taken aback. "I'm not having that good a hair day."

"With roots?" She continued.

"For…"

"I go to Martin Van Buren Middle School over on Woodbridge. Do you know it?"

"No."

"Well, every year Samuel Polotsky wins the science fair. Now, it's very important that I beat him this year because I hate him. This year I have the perfect project. I'm going to take hair samples from three men, run DNA tests on them, and figure out which ones my father."

"Huh. Good luck with that."

"My uncle works for a lab in Hartford, so he's going to oversee me. But I'll be doing all the actual work myself," she continued.

"Your father," Jess' blood ran cold at her words.

"Yeah, see, science fairs have gotten so political lately. It's no longer the simple act of science being appreciated. There's got to be a twist, a gimmick. Something flashy. I figure this is perfect. Real science, DNA testing, with a flash of human drama. "Who's my daddy?". Huh? Catchy, right?"

But I'm to young to be…"

"I already have the other two samples. This is my last stop. I go to the lab tomorrow, and the fair is on the 16th. And, if I win, there's going to be a banquet on the 18th, and you get to choose any two kinds of spaghetti that you want. There's going to be at least ten options, though I know what I'm getting. Split order, half mushroom, half mizeethra cheese."

"But I'm not your…I'm too young…" Jess stammered.

"Your father is Jimmy Mariano. I found my mothers old diary. There isn't a James or Jimmy Mariano on the eastern seaboard that fits the age range and love of Hot Dogs. But I was able to track down a Jimmy Mariano in California that does and he has a hot dog stand on Rome beach…"

"Venice Beach," Jess corrected. He was turning white at her descriptions of the man he had only met a few years ago.

"And you are his son. I did an online search. I found your publishing company and now here I am."

Jess stood in shock of this girl.

"Even without Jimmy, I can prove we have similar DNA markers that siblings share. It would better if I had your mother's hair to rule out what you got from her and what you got from Jimmy. But I will take what I can get." The girl reached up and pulled out some of Jess' hair, took a picture of him and got back on her bike and went on her way.

Jess stood on the sidewalk and touched the spot where the girl had pulled out his hair.

He needed to see Luke.

* * *

Jess drove up to Luke's diner and could see Lorelai Gilmore through the window. "Well here goes nothing," he said to himself. He knew his uncle was engaged to Lorelai Gilmore. It was about time. The only two people who couldn't see that coming from a mile away were Luke and Lorelai themselves. He took a deep breath and got out of the car walked into the diner.

When the bell chimed to signal a new customer both Lorelai and his uncle looked at him.

"Jess?" Luke said in surprise. "Did I know you were coming?"

"I didn't know I was coming," Jess answered. "It's okay that I'm here?"

"Of course it's okay," Luke said still taken aback by his nephew's presences.

" I was in Woodbridge and I wanted to say hi."

"I'm glad you did."

Jess sat at the counter and nodded hello to Lorelai, who smiled politely at him. After all that happened between him and Rory, he was taking it as a good sign.

"You're welcome to stay here."

Jess was supposed to drive back to check into a hotel in Hartford, but after the conversation he had with the strange girl, he wasn't in the mood for driving. He knew he had a place to stay with his uncle.

"You sure? I'm not imposing?"

"Never."

"Okay then. I will stay for the night." He went and got his stuff out of his car and carried it upstairs.

Jimmy had up and left Jess and his mother before he was home from the hospital and now this girl wanted his hair for genetic proof of a sibling. If Jimmy could just leave Jess, whose to say he wouldn't do the same to another kid? It made Jess sick. He would tell Luke about the strange girl later. For now, he was just happy to be around the only man who came closest to being a father to him.


	2. Rock Bottom

_The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places._ _~Ernest Hemingway_

A wake-up call had been a long time coming for Jess, but he had to hit rock bottom first. For Jess, rock bottom came in the form of an arrest on a night out in New York just after his mother's wedding. He was charged with felony criminal mischief for fighting in an under age concert venue. It didn't matter that he was completely sober or that the other guy made threats to his buddy. It mattered that Jess swung first and there was property damage (broken tables and chairs). Luckily, the other guy didn't want to press charges, but the club owner did and he spent the night in jail.

For the first time, Jess was scared. He came dangerously close to going over the edge and he knew it. He knew he needed to make changes. His anger was eating him alive. He was prepared to plead guilty and face whatever consequences would happen to him as a result.

In a twist of fate or good luck, or being a first time offender, his public defender took a liking to Jess. She got the charges dropped to a misdemeanor and the judge to agreed to hold off on sentencing if Jess agreed to eight-weeks of intensive therapy. The sentencing would occur after therapy and at the recommendation of the therapist. When the judge interviewed Jess, he was told not to put a toe out of line or he would get the max felony sentence of fours years, and Jess was too scared to not do what the judge said.

Jess, reluctantly at first, let the walls he built up fall away if only for the hour he was in the therapist's office for the twice-weekly sessions. Nothing was off limits and his therapist forced him to deal with his anger. Liz and the men she dated came up, a lot. Rory was a huge topic of discussion. Even Jimmy and Luke got some time. More importantly, though, his therapist helped him work through his past and provided focus and a launch pad for taking steps to make a major life change. A lot of fancy words like "abandonment" and "detached" were tossed around but when Jess finished therapy, he came away with one major conclusion. At some point, the decision would be his to either grow up and move on or be miserable and stew in his anger. Jess didn't want to stew anymore.

When it was all over, his therapist wrote a glowing report to the judge citing Jess' sincere commitment to  _"do more"._  He was sentenced to one hundred hours of community service, he had to pay a fine and he could have the misdemeanor expunged from his record after five years. He needed to move on with his life and that started with a move where no one knew him.

During all the chaos Jess started writing to clear his mind and channel some of his anger into something productive. An idea had been in his head for a few years and he needed to get it out. He found a small publishing company in Philadelphia willing to publish the short novel. Perhaps it was serendipity or chance or possible even talent, the owners offered him a job and the chance to live in the upstairs apartment. The day after he finished his community service, he packed his car and moved to Philadelphia. At first, he worked as a cashier at Truncheon Books little bookstore and then as an editor when Matt and Chris saw he possessed more than a basic grasp of the English language. By the end of the year, they made him a partner in the growing publishing company.

About a month after moving to Philadelphia, he decided it was time to finally finish his GED. While taking a refresher course in English and math his instructor challenged/dared him to take the placement exam for English. He placed at the highest level and then decided to take the math exam, where he placed better than he thought he would. When he passed his GED, Jess enrolled as a student at the Philadelphia Community College for the spring semester.

A year later, he declared his major in Liberal Studies. To pay for school, he worked the over night shift at an all night diner twice a week. Between the two time jobs and the four classes he was taking, Jess didn't have time to get in trouble...or sleep.

He hadn't told Luke or his mom yet going back to school. Mostly because he didn't know exactly what was going to come from all of it; he just knew that for the first time, his education meant something to him and he would share it with them when he was ready. Luke did, however, know about the book and Job at Truncheon and was ridiculously proud of his nephew.

Luke had a vague idea that something had happened to Jess and that was part of the reason he moved, but didn't know the details. Jess made a habit of talking to his mother at least once a month and she knew just as much as Luke. After his mother's wedding, Jess promised Luke he would pay him back for helping him out after an incident at a party and for the time he had lived with him during high school. He was saving and would pay Luke back soon. He hoped from the check he knew he was due for the sales of his book and the raise he had been promised.

When Luke came upstairs after the diner closed he found Jess asleep on the couch with a bunch of papers, some from manuscripts he was editing and some from school, scattered around him. He tried focusing on something other than his meeting with the strange girl but instead fell asleep.

"Jess," Luke said shaking him awake. He opened his eyes. "Hey go to bed. I'm going to Lorelai's for the night."

"No," Jess said rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"You want to have a sleep-over?"

"No…" he stammered. Jess needed to tell Luke about the girl. "I think I have a sister," Jess blurted out.

"That's generally something you know," Luke joked.

"Tonight, this girl, she couldn't be any more than eleven or twelve, said she was doing a science fair thing and using DNA to find her father."

"But you would…"

"Jimmy, Luke, She tracked down Jimmy, and somehow my name came up in her search. She found me through Truncheons web site."

"Whoa," Luke said sitting down in the lounge chair.

"Yeah, that's what I said. She knew where he lived."

"That…" Luke was processing what his nephew was saying.

"If this girl is my sister, is it possible there are more kids? I mean did Jimmy leave an entire army of illegitimate children? All characterized by a smart mouth, a predisposition to under achieve known as the "loser gene" and a freakish knowledge of Rock Music?"

"Jess," Luke stopped him. "First of all, you do not have a loser gene. This girl can't be dumb if she's smart enough to track Jimmy down."

"I mean it's not for sure yet, she still has to run the DNA test…I just…do you think he knew? Do you think he just left another woman high and dry when she was carrying his baby?"

"I couldn't begin to tell you what Jimmy knows. You know him better than I do."

"My mother always picks the winner," Jess mumbled.

"Didn't you tell me he had a daughter?"

"Lilly. And she isn't his kid," Jess answered. "She's Sasha's daughter from a previous marriage."

"Okay, so what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know. Should I do something?" Jess paused. "The whole thing is weird."

"It is. But have you thought about maybe going and seeing what the results are before you freak out about Jimmy and an army of his illegitimate children?"

"You think I should go to the science fair?"

"I think you should."

Jess thought about what his uncle was saying. "I guess...Maybe… could you… come with me?"

"I will come with you," Luke said knowing it was the closest thing to Jess admitting he needed help.

* * *

The next morning Jess packed his stuff, got ready to go to Yale to see Rory and then head home to Philadelphia. He had work and classes the next day but now planned to return in a few weeks for the science fair.

"You're gonna be sick," Jess overheard Luke talking to Lorelai Gilmore.

"No," she said playfully.

"It's already loaded with chocolate chips. That's candy, and you're adding whipped cream. That's more candy."

"Got any jelly beans?"

"I'm gonna be sick," Luke said.

Jess thought he might be sick too, as the phone rang.

"Oh, and a cherry."

"Luke's," Luke answered the phone.

"Rory?" Luke questioned. Jess snapped to attention and stood back even further from the curtain as he was now focused on the conversation. He considered going back upstairs and picking up the other line. Instead, he sat on the step and listened to the conversation.

"Rory?" Lorelai questioned. "That's Rory?"

"I'll give her to you," Luke said.

"To me? That's Rory for me?" Why would that be a surprise to Lorelai, Jess questioned.

"She wants to know if you're coming to her birthday party," Luke said.

"What?"

"They're making the chocolate boxes right now, and she needs to know if you're coming so they can make you one."

I didn't know I was invited."

"She said she sent you an invitation."

"I didn't know it was from her," Lorelai said to Luke. "I didn't know it was from you!" Lorelai said a bit louder so Rory could hear her.

"Are you coming or not?" Luke relayed the message.

"Yes, I-I'm coming. I want a chocolate box."

"She'll be there," Luke said into the phone.

"Rory called," Jess thought Lorelai sounded like she was choking back tears.

"I know. She called and yelled at me," Luke said hanging up the phone.

"No, she called and yelled at me."

"Yeah, but I'm the one who had to hear it, and she was loud. And she said "hell". I never heard her say "hell". I didn't even know she knew how to say "hell". She was mad and she yelled and she said "hell"," Luke rambled.

Something big was going on for Rory to be hardly speaking to her mother, those girls were thick as thieves. Jess could hardly imagine what could have occurred for a to be the wedge between Rory and her mother.


	3. Someone Who Understands

_"_ _The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for."_

_―_ **_Bob Marley_ **

Jess waited a few minutes to walk back downstairs, but when he did, his mother walked into the diner and was chatting with Lorelai while Luke was behind the counter. Jess took another minute to mentally prepare himself for Liz.

"Morning," Jess said, walking into the diner.

"Morning," Luke.

"Jess!" Liz exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" she got up to give a hug, which he accepted awkwardly.

"I was just driving through," he answered her.

"Hey, your birthday is in a few weeks," Liz said tentatively as if she wasn't all that sure when. "The big 2-1! Do you have any big plans? You  _must_  have big plans."

"No, I have to work that night," he answered.

"Well, it's not like you never had a drink before," Liz quipped, trying to be funny. "Stole enough of my beers..." she mumbled.

Jess caught Luke and Lorelai exchanging a look.

On any other occasion, or in any other circumstance, Jess would have called her a hypocrite or commented that he didn't steal her beers; she just forgot she drank them. "Well, I need to get going," he said evenly. "Thank you for the place to crash Luke. I'll call you."

"You want breakfast?" Luke asked, changing the subject.

"Just a glazed doughnut and coffee," While Jess searched through his messenger bag for his wallet, the notebook he used for his math class fell out.

"What's this?" Luke asked.

"Nothing," Jess answered.

"Looks like a notebook with a bunch of math equations," Lorelai chimed in.

"Are you taking classes for your GED?" Luke asked with a half smile.

"That's not for my GED," Jess said quietly.

"Well then what's it for?" Luke asked.

"Just felt like drawing lines and solving for X," he said evasively.

"That's not algebra," Lorelai said looking at the notebook. "I think it's Calculus."

"It's not Calculus. Can I have my notebook?"

"Not until you tell the class what you are doing with a notebook full of math problems," Lorelai asked with a smile.

He sighed, "I go to a place where they give you math problems and you solve them for fun."

"Jess, come on," Luke said getting impatient, knowing this routine.

"Are you taking college classes?" Lorelai guessed a smile spread on her face.

"I might be enrolled in something like that."

"You're taking college classes?" Luke gasped.

"Yes, I am taking classes," Jess sighed. "For now. No biggie." He took out his school ID and showed Luke.

"I thought you needed a high school diploma?" Liz asked.

"Passed the GED last year," Jess answered.

"Good for you," Luke added with a hint of pride. "That's a really great thing, Jess."

Jess shrugged.

"Still-they let you in?" Liz asked, flabbergasted.

"Yeah, they let me in," he drawled wryly with a flashed raise of the eyebrows.

"No... I just didn't think they took  _drop-outs_  much less flunk-outs- No offense, Luke," she hastily added with a hand extended backward in apology to her brother who stood there with his mouth hanging open...next to an equally slack jawed Lorelai.

"It's a community- You know what, forget it," Jess said through gritted teeth. He turned his back to her and busied himself putting cream and sugar in his coffee, so Liz didn't see him get ahold of himself.

"I'll call you on your birthday," Liz said, walking out the door. With Jess' back turned, Lorelai watched her leave, mentally using her Cat Woman claws and laser beam eyes to rip Liz apart.

"Uh-huh, yeah okay," Jess mumbled to himself. People wondered why he was such an angry kid. She said that every year on his birthday.

"Jess I'm sure your mom didn't mean..."

"I gotta go to," Jess interrupted when she was gone, giving Luke the $5.

"Your money is no good here," Luke refused to take the $5. "Students eat free."

"I'll call you about that thing," Jess said pointedly at Luke, leaving the $5 on the table, and got up to leave.

In the year and a half since moving to Philadelphia, he never appreciated the 184 miles between Stars Hollow and Philadelphia as he did in that moment.

Except there was one problem: The things he overheard earlier in the diner.

Rory.

Something wasn't right and he had to know, so he turned his CRV around and drove back towards Stars Hollow, cursing the entire way.

* * *

He drove to the diner but saw that Taylor and Kirk had walked in and he  _really_ didn't have the patience for that. Instead, he circled the town, waiting for them to leave.

He found a familiar street and saw that Lorelai's Jeep was in the driveway and since he had time to kill, he figured it was time to take care of something. It was probably a suicide mission, but nonetheless, still, something he needed to do before Lorelai Gilmore became his aunt.

He owed a million apologies to Luke and even more to Rory, but somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Jess wondered if things could have been different for him in Stars Hollow if his first meeting with Lorelai had gone smoothly.

He sat in his car trying to get the nerve to talk to her. "Fuck it, I'm a fucking sadist," he said out loud to no one before he got out of his car. He closed his eyes and knocked on her door.

He wasn't expecting Lorelai to answer so quickly.

"Jess?" She said surprised. "I thought you left town."

"I, uh," he stammered. "I wanted to offer my congratulations to you on your engagement," he said, awkwardly finding his voice.

Something flashed in Lorelai's eyes.

Sadness, he thought.

"Oh," She said. "Well, uh thank you Jess, but I need to get to the Dragonfly."

"Wait," he said swallowing the nervous lump in his throat. "I, uh, I need to..."

Lorelai simply looked at him, waiting for the joke but let him continue.

"A lot of things have changed for me in the last few years and I have realized what Luke did for me…" Jess paused. "It wasn't something that anyone just  _does_. Even for their family. I didn't make it easy on him."

"You can certainly say that again," She agreed with him tentatively. "Shouldn't you be saying this to Luke though?" Lorelai asked. She could see he was nervous and the memory of the encounter earlier with his mother played in her head. It was Lorelai's first impulse to shut the door in his face, but a dormant mother's instinct she once felt for Jess told her to hold off with the door slamming.

"No, I should be saying this to you."

"Come in," She sighed and opened the door for him. "You want some coffee?" Lorelai asked. "These kinds of conversations always go better with coffee."

"And a shot of strong whiskey," he mumbled to himself.

Lorelai heard him and smiled. "Don't have any whiskey." The tension faded a little in the room. "So, continue," she said. They were now sitting across from each other at her kitchen table.

"I've done some stupid things. I'm sorry if any of those things hurt you." he was fumbling what he really wanted to say. "And I'm really sorry if I put you through any unnecessary stress."

Lorelai paused for a minute. Jess could see she was thinking of a response.

"I'm not good at this kind of thing unless I'm writing it," he figured she was going to throw him out or think this was some kind of joke. "What I mean is…"

"Can I ask you one question?" Lorelai interrupted him finally speaking up.

"Sure."

"Do you still care about Rory?" Lorelai blurted out.

"I'm sorry?  _What?"_

"Because she needs a friend right now. She really needs someone who gets her in a way I never understood."

"I didn't come here for…"

"It doesn't matter if you _did_  come here for that. I'm simply telling you Rory needs a friend."

"Wh- I don't..." he trailed off, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"She is at an all time low and needs a friend," Lorelai repeated.

"What about Lane?" he finally stammered out awkwardly.

"She has Lane and Paris, but I think she needs someone who understands what she is going through at the moment."

" _Understand_ what? What happened?"

"That's her story to tell."

"How do you know she would even talk to me?" Jess finally asked.

"I don't," Lorelai said simply.

"You're not giving me a lot to work with."

"Why don't you tell her you went back to school. Start with that," she suggested. Lorelai took a deep breath. "She's staying with her grandparents right now. You know the place-gargoyles, dungeon, ivory tower with a long braid hanging down the side…"

"I'm short a sword and a trusty steed," Jess quipped.

"But, you've met the fire-breathing dragon," Lorelai grinned, hopefully.

"Yet, you still want me to go there."

"You've always struck me as the Lancelot type."

"Have not," he droned, with a hardness in his eyes.

"Well…" she shrugged, dismissing her own past conceptions, as it suited her. "I have a feeling now that you might be able to help  _this_  damsel in distress."

Jess stared past her and exhaled a slow, heated sigh. His eyes lifted, studying Lorelai...not meeting her eyes, but scrutinizing everything else. There was a time in the very recent past that she thought him the villain. It rankled him that she could flip so easily when it got her what she wanted. There was a familiar scent of manipulation, and he wanted nothing more than to dig in his heels and turn his back. The trouble was, Rory's happiness was what he wanted too. And he didn't know whether to be gratified or incensed that she knew it.

"I forgive you for all the crap you pulled," Lorelai broke the silence in the room. "You were just a kid. And I do need to get to the Inn," Lorelai got up from her seat, placing her coffee cup in the sink.

That's right. He'd given her an apology. Jess sat up, taking a deep breath to clear his head. He hated how easy it was to lose track of everything else the moment he began to think about Rory.

"Jess," Lorelai walked out of the kitchen, but then turned back around and looked at him right in the eye. Her voice came out almost choked, though he couldn't think why. "I think it's really great that you went back to school. I wish you the best," Lorelai walked out, but then quickly reappeared. "About Rory...This didn't come from me. This is between us."

He nodded, numbly.

* * *

"Luke, what is going  _on?!"_  He burst into the diner, seeing that everyone but Luke had gone, and knowing the mid-morning lull very well.

Luke looked up, mildly shell-shocked. "Hello again, to you too."

"Between Lorelai and Rory, what's going on?"

Luke looked down again, shuffling money from the register.

"What? You're just going to  _ignore_  me?" He glared at the top of his uncle's baseball cap.

"That's right," Luke said to the cash register drawer.

"Because?"

"Because I have enough trouble staying out of the middle, all on my own, without you trying to stick your nose in," he answered, shoving a pile of ones into the appropriate slot with more force than was strictly necessary. "All right?"

Jess sighed. "And if Lorelai asked me to stick my nose in?"

Luke looked up, head tilted and frowning. "Why would she do that?"

"God knows."

"Well, if she already told you, then why are you askin' me?" Luke shrugged, straightening the ten dollar bills.

"Look, at one point, Rory was the only friend I had. So you can either tell me, or I'm going to Hartford right now to get it out of Rory herself."

"Jess, don't," Luke started. "It's a long story and it's complicated."

"What's so complicated?"

Luke puffed out a long sigh. Meeting Jess' eyes, there was a dawning of some new thought within his own. "She dropped out of school." He blinked. "And Lorelai told her she couldn't live with her anymore."

Jess looked away, the situation all too familiar. He swallowed the lump that formed in this throat. "Oh," he said softly sitting down.

* * *

Jess called Chris at Truncheon and told him his Uncle needed him for the day, and he would drive back later that evening. Chris was reluctant to give Jess the day off until he promised to work the late shift on Friday and Saturday for the next two weeks.

Jess arrived at the elder Gilmore residence as the sun had just gone down. There were no gargoyles; and there was no ivory tower, no braid. The braid would have at least been an invitation. He drew a heavy breath, glancing in his messenger bag and trying to think what he could possibly say to Rory. There were cars pulling in and out of the driveway at a semi-regular pace. Had he been in a different neighborhood, he would have suspected the residents of dealing. Squinting beyond the gates, he could see that there were more lights on than would have been normal for 2-3 people...or even 2-3 people plus the usual staff. Rolling down the windows, he could hear voices...laughter. This probably wasn't a good time. They obviously had guests.

With a smirk and raised eyebrows, he put together what was up with the traffic. Valet service. Should have been his first thought. Glanced back down at the bag again. Okay. They had guests. A party, it looked like. It would probably be a bad time to talk to Rory with any degree of privacy. A bad time to barge in altogether. A jittering of his leg near the accelerator accompanied his desire to beat a hasty retreat to Philly. He knew in his gut, though, that if he did that, there was a very good chance he'd never get up the nerve to come back.

Instead, he furrowed his brow and found a paper and pen, scribbling a hasty note along with a telephone number. He couldn't force her to talk to him. But, maybe an offer of coffee. With a quick breath and a swift motion, tucking the note into the book he had brought, he opened the car door and swung the messenger bag onto his shoulder...gathering his will. Only a few moments ducked in the shadows was required before another convenient guest pulled in, and the gate was opened for them. He slipped past the wrought iron without attracting attention.

Luke had told him she lived in her grandparents' pool house. Shouldn't be too hard to find. It wouldn't be difficult to slip the book inside, but he decided unless the door was clearly unlocked, he wouldn't chance it. No point in setting off burglar alarms and having a  _really_  awkward hello.

There was plenty of light, and a clear walkway, so locating the building was easy. The glass doors seemed like a major invasion of privacy. But, it wasn't him who had to live there. He tried the handle just for resistance, but before he put any more effort into the process, his head tilted to one side, seeing furniture pressed up against the glass. Peering into the darkened room, he could see more furniture...the place was packed solid.

Huh, no way she lived there now.

Biting his lip, he turned, regarding the main house ruefully. Shaking his head, because there was no way he had any business in a place like this and he was cursing Lorelai more with every step, he walked toward the back entrance. He could just give the book to the maid and tell her to give it to Rory once everyone had left. It was a plan. A simple, solid plan that didn't involve a night in jail or bail money.

Two steps further and she appeared in a halo of light...his steps halted and his stomach clenched.

 _Elegant. Glossy._  Her hair wasn't chopped short like it was before. It flowed down her shoulders in thick, too-perfect waves. It fell just above her eyebrows, framing her face...more beautiful even than in all the time he'd known her. Her hair was the wrong color. That wasn't the color of Rory's hair.

Her eyes turned, nearing the door out which he stood, and he ducked backward, narrowly evading them. Just as he did so, her eyes flicked back to where they'd gazed the moment before, and he saw Lorelai step into view, also elegantly dressed in black.

_What?_

The two women stood awkwardly, making polite conversation. Jess felt sick.

It had always given him an ache to watch the two of them together. Because they shared something he could never have and had always wished for. But, now… They smiled smiles made of glass, and even when it was clear that one had made a joke and they shared a moment of laughter...it was ice cold.

He watched as a glowing, flowered, autumnal cake, set with long candlesticks was wheeled toward her, a circle of bright, approving faces along with it. They began to sing. Rory beamed and glanced backward. And Lorelai retreated.

It felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

He'd try to talk to her after everyone left. Let her have her happy birthday.

He never expected to feel so heart-twisted on Lorelai's behalf. He was supposed to know how  _Rory_  was feeling.

Luke's truck rattled away in the distance and Jess sank to the cool grass, preparing for a long, patient evening. He didn't know how much time had passed when he awoke to the opening of the door beside him, which made him scuttle beneath the darker shadows of the bushes as quietly as he could. Meanwhile, a woman in a maid's uniform-black trash bag in one hand, broom in the other-bustled past, in full soliloquy diatribe, in a language he didn't recognize.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway would not have particularly attracted his attention, but the multiple slammed doors and the whooping of male voices, piqued his curiosity. Jess unfolded himself from the bushes and surreptitiously made his way to the corner of the building, where he could peer around the stones, still with plenty of manicured shrubbery to keep him hidden from view.

A tuxedoed man who stood erectly with a bottle of champagne tucked behind his back called with a false politeness for "One Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, if you please," sweeping an incongruous bow to the maid-a different maid than he'd seen carrying the garbage a few moments prior-who gave him a bewildered look and disappeared within, presumably announcing his presence, or calling for Rory, or whatever she'd been instructed to do in such a circumstance. Another young man called something, laughing, to the first; and a third made a lewd remark in a deadpan tone, with an equally flat expression. The first swigged a hurried gulp of the champagne and swept it behind his back once more. The third called him an idiot.

Rory appeared, looking embarrassed and amused all at once, a blond young man trailing her down the steps. The earlier whooping resumed and the trio, joined by the fourth who'd escorted her, swooped her up into the air, carrying her on their shoulders with an odd variation of the birthday song, likely of their own invention, sung at the top of their voices while Rory attempted to shush them.

Rory's grandmother appeared on the steps, looking startled.

The first young man, raised his free arm in salutation and reassurance, brash voice with an Australian tinge singing out, "Not to worry, luv! We'll have her back in one piece before this cab turns back into a pumpkin! Tally-ho!"

Both Lane and Paris appeared, flanking Emily, concern written clearly on both their brows as Rory was whisked inside the long, black car; without throwing so much as a helpless shrug behind her.

Jess shot a bitter fraction of a laugh at the ground. " _Happy Birthday, Rory Gilmore._ " He swung a step in the direction of his car, kicking at a piece of the landscaping as if he hadn't meant to do it, and slumped his shoulders into a stance reminiscent of a 16-year-old boy who'd gotten off a bus in a small, strange town.


	4. The Alternate Universe

_"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood." ―_ **_George Orwell_ ** _,_ **_1984_ **

Back in Philadelphia Jess was swamped. In the two weeks, he had been back from Connecticut, he had three exams, one is a final exam, two papers to write, and - God helps him - an oral presentation. He also had a note from the guidance office to make an appointment. The last time that happened, they made him pick a major.

Jess was behind at Truncheon and had important meetings in New York and Rhode Island with two independent bookstore owners to get his book into their stores.

He had to pull some strings at the diner he worked at part-time. In order to get the time off to go to Rhode Island for this meeting, he had to make certain promises about covering co-workers **'**  shifts when they needed him. Which most likely meant he could kiss his weekends goodbye for a while.

One of the girls in his history class kept asking him if he wanted to study with her (and he kept wondering whether she was mentally inserting air quotes, or really needed a study partner). Then Matt and Chris got the brilliant idea to throw a Halloween party/birthday party for him. He couldn't say yes to any of it. He had no time for a social life and would be thrilled just to get a full night's  _sleep_  for his birthday.

Why exactly had he thought it was a good idea to pursue higher education?

Every time he thought he could walk away from all of it, one of his instructors would hand back a paper or a test with an A on it. Even better, someone would review  _The Subsect_. Or someone would buy  _The Subsect_. Or he would get a tip that would allow him to buy extra groceries for the month. He was learning to take one day at a time, sometimes one hour at a time - but he knew, for the first time in his life, he was doing something right.

* * *

He drove into New York City early Friday afternoon, the day after his birthday, and met with the owner of a few bookstores located in the five boroughs. They got done during rush hour traffic; and Jess had no desire to sit in the middle of gridlock, exhaust fumes, and cabbies laying on their horns, potentially, for hours. So, instead, he made his way on foot to his favorite hot dog stand and his bench at Washington Square Park. It was his favorite place in New York City. After all, to him, New York City and Greenwich Village would always be home.

Spreading out on the bench he'd adopted when he was just a kid, he worked on a paper with an upcoming deadline, scribbling, brainstorming, and mapping out his thoughts on the subject matter. In the middle of working, he flipped several pages forward in his notebook, gripped with an idea for how to work a scene out in the second book he told Matt and Chris he wasn't working on. Going back and forth between the two, he nearly finished the assignment and wound up with a semi-working timeline for the supposedly non-existent novel.

At this point, the nightly traffic jam had run its course...some time ago. He'd failed to notice when he stopped working by twilight and transitioned to a streetlight. It was bright enough that it didn't much matter. Gathering his papers, Jess stood with a stretch and a yawn, consulting his watch and beginning to amble back in the direction of his car.

His meeting in Rhode Island was the next morning at 11 AM and he still had a three-hour drive ahead of him. So Jess decided to drive straight through, if possible, and get a hotel in Rhode Island or somewhere short of Rhode Island if fatigue started to overtake him.

I-95 follows the coast of Connecticut; and the closer he got to the exit he'd taken once upon a time, a whole long year ago, to go see her at Yale, the more Rory Gilmore was on his mind. Rory...who wasn't at Yale.

_"...she needs someone who understands what she is going through at the moment."_

How the hell was he supposed to understand? He didn't drop out of school. He got  _kicked_  out. At the time, he'd hated everything about the educational system. She loved it. So, in what universe had he enrolled in a community college while she dropped out of Yale? That was a good portion of why he'd  _left_. He didn't want her to have to be ashamed of her high school flunk out boyfriend hanging around her Ivy League dorms. He didn't want her apologizing for him, or  _not_  apologizing for him...pretending that implosion was a valid life choice. He had to go somewhere and fix himself...so that he wouldn't screw her up.

He left.

And she dropped out of Yale.

Academia had been everything to Rory. And why shouldn't it be? She had a mother who cared enough to notice that her school wasn't challenging her and that there was better out there, and she had family money to get her into a better school, and then into Harvard or Yale, or whichever prestigious Academy she chose, most likely. He didn't resent her; she had every reason in the world to shoot for those dreams -nothing was stopping her from achieving whatever she set her mind to. She could, quite literally, be whatever she wanted to be.

The girl who always told him that he could do more, that he should go to college...when all he'd seen for himself was a dead end...

Jess knew he couldn't depend on Luke forever and he couldn't continue to be Luke's responsibility to bail out of trouble and debt for the rest of his life. He needed to have a car, and a job, and money in the bank by graduation...or, as it turned out, by not-graduation. If it took skipping mind numbing classes and escaping the company of tormented fellow drones in order to work as many shifts at as many jobs as he could con people into letting him work (ah, those lovely child labor laws), then so be it.

...How could  _that_   _girl_  say 'screw it,' and walk away from everything?

_"...Someone who understands what she is going through…"_

He saw the green sign,  _I-95-I-91 connector ramp, Hartford._ A turn signal and a last minute lane change...or, rather, several. Early acquaintance with NYC traffic was good for something. At least blaring horns and expletives rolled off his back as he slipped through the maelstrom and onto the smoother asphalt. Jess sighed deeply, he was doing this.

He didn't  _understand_...but he had a book to deliver.

* * *

_"Name?" the bored receptionist said while smacking her gum._

_"Jess Mariano."_

_"Kay," she blew a bubble with her gum. "Wait over there," she indicated to a waiting area. "Doris will be out here in a minute."_

_Doris? He wasn't supposed to be here to see a-_

_"Jess Mariano?"_

* * *

It felt strange pulling his car up to the same spot in the same road with the same butterflies in his stomach as he had two weeks before. When he'd passed the metaphorical point of no return, cutting off people in multiple lanes of traffic so he wouldn't miss the exit, he hadn't been thinking about the time. He hadn't been anticipating sitting, looking into those wrought iron gates and seeing a darkened house in the early morning - wondering what being had taken control of his body and driven him to this spot where he had no reason to be in the middle of the night. What was he gonna do? Throw pebbles at whichever window he figured might be hers?

Just as this thought brought a scoffing noise to his lips, a pale blue car pulled up and the dark gates opened. No need to wonder. It took him a minute to get up his nerve, but he hadn't come all this way to chicken out at the last minute. It was now or never. He very tentatively got out of his car and made his way to the gate.

"Jess?" Rory jumped when she saw him through the wrought iron bars.

"Hey," he said, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest.

"Hey," she echoed, weakly. "I…" Her words trailed off into nothingness. "Sorry," Rory said as if she'd just woken from a dream, still uncertain what was real. "That wasn't a sentence."

"I got the gist," he returned kindly, feigning calm and casual with his heart now in his throat. He walked through the gate, quietly closing it behind him. Outwardly, he moved with a tentative surety. Inwardly, he was happy that she didn't scream, start throwing stuff at him, or run into the house.

"What are you doing here?"

"I got a job, professional driveway stalker."

"Pays well?"

"Yeah, but the hours suck."

He knew how to deflect. Acknowledge that he came across as a creeper ex-boyfriend by batting at the subject like a sarcastic kitten.

"Jess...?"

Then the real answer.

"I'm in town on a little business. All nice and above board," he clarified.

"How'd you know where to find me?"

"Luke, I shook it out of him. He wasn't sure if it was okay."

"It's okay. You look good. The years don't seem to have hardened you."

"Yeah, you look good, too," he smiled at her. "I know this is kind of weird, but there's actually something I wanted to tell you. Show you, actually. I can come back another time." He added, seeing her looking nervously up at the house.

"No, it's just, uh, we're kind of exposed here. My...her window's, like, right there."

"Whose?"

"Uh, my Grandma's."

"You want to come in?"

"You sure?" So he didn't have a black eye this time. If Lorelai Gilmore's stories were anything to go by, that wouldn't prevent Rory's grandmother from heartily disapproving of a 'male caller' pre-dawn. Still...he kind of hated the way it made legal adult Rory whisper and tiptoe.

"Yeah. Come on. But just be careful. She's a very light sleeper."

* * *

_Yeah," Jess looked up from his book, the woman's abrupt presence and...bizarre appearance interrupting his thoughts. The first thing that struck him-to use the word almost literally-was her short mane of fiery red curls, a shock of white shooting from the center of her forehead… like a freak hybrid of the bride of Frankenstein and Lucille Ball. He blinked at her stupidly._

_It wasn't just the hair, though._

_She looked like a freakin' leprechaun… snub nose, mocking eyes, and no more than four and a half feet tall in heels. Small, square, wire rimmed glasses sat precariously on the bridge of the aforementioned nose, a pink, beaded strand attached to their topmost corners, presumably to rescue them from the sharp fall they seemed destined to suffer on a frequent basis._

_The only mitigating factor in the whole startlingly tiny package was the gray, no-nonsense tailored business suit that fit her tiny frame perfectly. At_   _any moment, he still expected her to break into song and dance and welcome him to Munchkin Land!_

_"Follow me," she squawked in a high-pitched, nasal Brooklyn accent reminiscent of a vicious waterfowl that once attacked him. It took everything Jess had in him not to cringe visibly. She led him down a hall and into her office, his mind perversely chanting in chorus: Follow, follow, follow, follow...follow the…_

* * *

"Is that for Halloween?" He pointed at the pink dress on the door. It looked oddly Scandinavian...and he had  _never_  seen Rory wear pink of any shade. Which, incidentally, was something Jess was not so inexplicably grateful for...even if it had never occurred to his conscious mind until this moment.

"No, no. This is just for a function I have to go to."  _Mildly defensive. Noted._

"Function?" he questioned, probing at the defense, eyes pressing the matter gently for a second before glancing with specific, interested, nonchalance around the room.

"It's just a job. The DAR –Daughters of the American Revolution— It's not a career or anything," Rory explained, her voice stilted, but clearly trying not to make this anything significant.

"I  _hope_  not," he said still looking around the room for clues. One prominent candidate was the newspaper on the coffee table - half page portrait of one Rory Gilmore, dressed in a military uniform that looked like it belonged in the 1940's...two old women on either side. Just a flash of the headline: "DAR Chapter - Shows Their Support" before he turned from it to meet her eyes again if they hadn't been downcast.

_Yeah. Rory Gilmore going at something halfway...just a job...sure._

"No. See, don't get the wrong idea. I'm just here temporarily. My mom and I…"

"Luke alluded to something." He should've let her finish, but the gracious save, sparing her dignity. There was a time she'd done the same for him, in a way, it was a repayment. He appreciated it when it was his own dignity on the line.

"It's a long story. I was crashing in the pool house, and that was just temporary, but the pool house became storage, so then I had to move into the main house. All temporary."

"Isn't school in session?"  _Cut to the chase._  He could only spare her dignity to a point. The point where her dignity was digging its granny boot heels into her sense of self.

"Mm-hmm."

"Why aren't you living on campus?"  _Come on, Rory._

"Because I'm not going."

"You graduate already, Doogie?"  _Zing._

"No. I'm just taking a little time off."

"Time off," he repeated softly, his stomach clenching...his eyes asking the questions that he kept off his lips.  _Just a job. Time off._

* * *

_"I'm Doris, Doris Flannigan, but you should just call me Doris," she said...sing-song, croaking, nails-on-chalkboard...sticking out her hand. "Sit, sit," she indicated, twitching a forefinger toward to the couch."_

_He had the choice of either continuing to follow this woman down the yellow brick road or going to jail? Was this somebody's idea of a sick joke?_

_"Pre-sentencing counseling, eight weeks, twice a week sessions, Class E felony," she read from a file. "You're looking at a maximum of four years?"_

_"Yeah," his breath hitched; and he shifted, uncomfortable sitting on the edge of the ergonomic, too comfortable cushions-a slight queasiness lining his stomach and an itch crawling at his skin. "I was told I was going to see Joe."_

_"We had an emergency and had to send Joe to a local high school, you were re-assigned so he could be away. This is the first time I have seen your file." She explained. "So, why are you here?"_

_"The file has everything you need."_

_"Uh-huh," she pursed her painted-bright-pink, thin lips together. "Tell me something that isn't in here," she squeaked in a calm, forceful tone._

_To be continued..._


	5. DAR Rory

_"You will come to a place where the streets are not marked._

_Some windows are lighted. but mostly they're darked."_

_― Dr. Seuss_

Jess handed her his book.

"Well, color me curious," she said when he handed her the small volume. "A book." The words fell softly from her lips like summer rain. "' _The Subsect'"_ She froze. "...written by Jess Mariano." Rory's eyes lingered on the cover for a long moment and then opened like a blue sky to his, stunned.

"It's no misprint," he assured her.

"You wrote a book?" She questioned, almost disbelieving.

"A short novel."

"You wrote  _a book?!_ " she repeated, louder this time, with something between shock and excitement.

"And through a fluke, I got it to these guys that have a small press, and they read it. I don't know if they were high or something, but they decided to publish it." It was the only way he knew how to take credit for something-by mocking and belittling it, throwing in a heavy dash of sarcasm on the side.

"You wrote a book?" This time her words turned soft again...almost reverent, or nostalgic. He was afraid to hope for either.

"There's no money in it. They only printed like five-hundred of them. Believe me, I'm not quitting my day job." His nerves were jittering in his stomach again and they made him jabber defensively and let out a scoffing chuckle. Old habits.  _Don't let anybody think too much of you._

"But you wrote it. You wrote a book," she exclaimed, springing to her feet almost unconsciously in her eagerness.

He loved that she was genuinely happy for him.

"Yeah, I know. It's hard to believe."

"You sat down and wrote a novel."

He wasn't sure who needed convincing more, her or himself.

"Author-distributed, too. That's what I'm doing here. I'm going around begging independent bookstores to put it in stock. Got it in a few."

Her enthusiasm was contagious, as it always had been.

"Cool! Where?"

"Around."

"I want to see it in a store!" she exclaimed with pride.

"I can give you the addresses."

"You know what I'm gonna do when I see it in the store?"

"What?" He couldn't help but smile at her giddy grin.

"You know that section toward the front, the staff recommendations? I'm gonna grab a copy of your book and put it in that section, and then I'm going to write my own little recommendation on a card and attach it so people see it and buy it."

For the first time in a small eternity, she was lit up like the real Rory Gilmore. And something dangerous and warm-glowing responded in his core.

"Read it first. That way you can discourage people from buying it," he chided.

"No way! I  _know_  it's good. Jess, you've got  _such_  a great brain. I knew that if you could just sit down and stop shaking it around, you could  _do_  something like this. I knew it. I knew it."

 _This_  was the girl who had told him  _he could do more._

"I know you did." That glow crept into the words, unbidden. "I work at that press now. Five smelly guys in a cramped room on Locust Street putting out about three books a month. But it's fun." Smelly and cramped, but she'd love it. This old Rory Gilmore who was peeking through the curtains of the new Rory Gilmore's life would love  _Truncheon_. He didn't doubt it for a second.

"What about a sequel? Are you writing a sequel?"

She sparkled. And it both drew and scared him. Old alarm bells.  _Don't let anybody expect too much of you._

"You should read it before you get too jazzed about it, okay?"

"Shh!" she cautioned abruptly. They paused... "Sorry. I thought I heard footsteps. I think we're okay."

And that would be the cue.

"It's kind of late. I should go."

"It is kind of late."

They both stood. And it was the time to go. It felt like the right time. But he hadn't completed either of his objectives in coming there. He swallowed, gathering his nerve.

"So, I just basically wanted to show you that," he paused, finding the words he wanted to say. "Uh, tell you... tell you that I couldn't have done it without you," he all but stammered, his heart pounding in his chest.

Whether it came out the way he intended it to or not, Jess needed to say those words to Rory. But until he saw that she was living with her grandparents after dropping out of Yale, he never dreamed that maybe  _she needed_  to hear him say it. And now her eyes spoke, her muted tone and almost blank but misty expression numbly revealed something of how  _much_  she'd needed those words.

" _Thanks_..."

And there was that wistfulness. That… that sense of past and present and sweetness and sadness all mixed. It ached beautifully inside him, and he didn't dare let himself believe it echoed in her heart. No matter how much he could swear he saw it.

Whether for the sake of that feeling or to try to figure out why she was drowning and how he could maybe throw her a life raft… if Lorelai was right that he was someone who  _could...in fact,_ throw that lifeboat… he couldn't  _just_  leave.

"I'm gonna be around for a couple days. Can we talk again? Preferably above a whisper?"

* * *

_So then you think it's okay to push people into chairs? Is that why you're here?"_

_"No, not at all," Jess ran his fingers through his hair._

_"But you did? The police report says three chairs and two tables were broken."_

_"The guy had it coming. He was making threats to my friend and me…" Jess gulped. "Look, I know it can't happen again."_

_"Very good speech," she deadpanned sarcastically "Very sincere, not a hint of sarcasm. I almost believed you. Is that what you told the judge so he would give you this chance? Maybe now you can tell me why you're here."_

* * *

Steer me to the college district. I'll find us something funky," Jess said the next night. He hoped to get to the bottom of all this, and getting somewhere sitting down with food in front of them was the first step.

"Sounds good," Rory said as a blond guy with a bitter, tired expression pulled up in a silver Porsche. Jess recognized him from the party.

"Logan?"

A put-on elation colored her voice. Since he'd met her, she'd always been the least phony person he'd ever met. His mind flashed back to Rory and Lorelai standing too far apart, regarding one another with frozen, pained smiles. This was the new Rory:  _DAR Rory_ ; and this was the guy who helped her get there

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked in a stilted voice, eyeing Jess.

"No. Hey. When did you get back?"

"Couple hours ago".

"Oh, I...I thought you were getting back tomorrow."

 **"** I thought I'd surprise you, Ace."

With a sickness in his stomach and a cringing, friendly curiosity plastered on his face, Jess observed DAR Rory and guy in a silver Porsche act out an _unhappily married couple, scene #64: suspicions of impending infidelity._

"Well, I'm glad you did 'cause you get to meet my old friend, Jess. This is Logan, my boyfriend. Logan, this is Jess. He's in from out of town. Wow. That sounded so grown-up. We're at the age now where we say things like 'in from out of town' and 'old friend,' 'cause when you're young, all your friends are new, and you have to get old to  _have_  'old friends'."

_Huh, DAR Rory hadn't lost the Gilmore ramble._

"How are you doing?"

Jess choked, barely able to get the words out. They shook hands-pseudo-amicable play-acting. They all knew their part...their lines. For once, Jess didn't shrug off the duplicity...didn't snap or snarl at the pretenses. It may have been a stock scene, with cardboard characters, but they had merely tripped into the cliché. They were playing the part. But the scene was theirs sad, tired reality.

"Okay."

Something inside him died and ignited in one breath, looking into Porsche guy's cold, hard, mild eyes. His stomach clenched when the jerk put his arm possessively around Rory's shoulders and led her, shrinking from the gesture to the pretentious silver cell.

_At the very least, count ten before you knock him out._

* * *

_When did Mrs. Kim and a Leprechaun have an affair?_

_He looked at his hands and at the wall, anywhere but directly at her. What could she possibly want from him? She didn't like his answers, so he shut his mouth and found a spot on the wall to stare at. Even that got on his nerves. The wall, the couch, the chairs, even the pillows on the couch all several shades of earthy gray tones._

_"You know why I'm here," he finally said._

_"I do?" she shrilled. " I know WHAT you did to get here. But why are YOU here?"_

_Jess rolled his eyes. How did this woman have a Masters Degree in Counseling? Which, she proudly hung on her wall along with her Bachelor's Degree. Not only were they displayed, but in pink frames. Not just like a muted pink either. They were bright, bubble gum pink…with sparkles...freakin' sparkles. Was she 12?_

_His fate was in her tiny little hands. He was screwed._

_Screwed. Screwed. Screwed._

_"I have all day," she said checking her watch. That too was a gaudy pink, like a cheap child's watch. Why would she deliberately pick out_ that _watch in_ that _color?_

* * *

"So...what do you do, Jess?" asked Mr. High-and-Mighty.

"Oh, this and that," Jess said in a tone like strained gravel.

_Five..._

"Describe the ' _this_.' Describe the ' _that_.'" A tight, smug smile accompanied the words.

"He writes," Rory answered testily, responding to Logan's rudeness for him.

"You  _write?_  Impressive. What do you write?" Play-acting at its finest. The  _wow_  in his voice was delicately balanced, sounding  _almost_  genuine, but with just the barest hint of condescension.

"Nothing important."

"He wrote a book," Rory answered quickly.

"Oh, you penned the great American novel, Jess?" The subtlety was gone. The guys' words held  _beat it over the head with a hammer_  disdain now.

"Wasn't quite that ambitious," Jess bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

_Six…_

"So, what are we talking here? Short novel? Kafka length or longer? Dos Passos, Tolstoy? Or longer? Robert Musil? Proust? I'm not throwing you with these names, am I?"

_SEVEN._

"You seem very obsessed with length."  _zing!_

"I'm just trying to get a picture in my head, that's all."

"It's a short novel," Rory said trying to keep the peace.

"Any good?" Logan asked Rory

"I haven't read it yet."

He left Rory Gilmore with a book...a very thin book, as a matter of fact...written by a friend, and she didn't dive in? That  _stung._

" _Yet?_  Well, at least you'll have one reader. That's something."

_Eight…_

"Yeah."

"You know, I should just write down all my random thoughts and stuff that happens to me and conversations I have and just add a bunch of, "he said, she said", and get it published. You got a copy on you?"

"No," Jess bit out.

_Nine..._

"You should send me a copy."

... _Ten_

"Sure. And where do I send it? The blond dick at Yale?" He got up from the table and propelled himself toward the exit because clocking the prick would be  _bad. Plus_  he knew the "he provoked me" defense was useless, and this clown simply wasn't worth the risk.

* * *

_"The judge made me isn't an answer either." Doris shrilled. "You've told me about your mother and her drinking. You talked about your uncle and the self-help book he made you read and you still have not answered my question. Why are you here?"_

_"I don't know what you want from me. I answered the question. Would you like an interpretive dance as well?"_

_"I want an honest answer," she shot at him. "Can you do that?"_

_"Prison would screw with my complexion," Jess answered sarcastically._

_"Jess I am going to simplify this," she slammed her hand on the corner of the chair and said low and evenly. "I can be your best friend or your worst enemy and I'm damn good at both."_

_"I—I'm sorry," Jess was shocked by her sudden switch in demeanor._

* * *

"What the hell is going on?" Jess finally exploded when they were outside.

"I  _told_  you. He's tired, and his family's bugging him right now."

She thought he was asking what was wrong with the  _jackass?_  That was obvious.  _He was a jackass. End of story._  No. It was time to get to the bottom of this. It was time to make her look herself dead on in the mirror and  _see_  what had happened to her,  _realize_  what had happened to her- _KNOW._

"No, no. I mean with  _you_. What's going on with  _you?_ "

"What do you mean?"

Yeah, she was afraid to look, and in a way, he couldn't blame her. It was hard.

"You  _know_  what I mean. I  _know_ you. I know you better than anyone. This isn't  _you_."

"I don't know."

_Exactly._

"What are you  _doing?_ "

_Come on, Rory. LOOK. You've got to LOOK!_

"Living at your grandparents' place? Being in the DAR?  _No Yale_ - _WHY_  did you  _DROP_  out of  _YALE?!_ "

"It's complicated."

He was dragging her by the hand, holding her chin to direct her gaze inescapably at the reflection, and still, she kept looking away.

"It's  _NOT!_ It's  _not COMPLICATED,_ " Jess retorted.

" _You_  don't  _know!_ "

_Wanna bet?_

"This isn't  _you_.  _This_ …you going out with this jerk, with the Porsche.  _We made fun of guys like this!_ " He'd seen  _Real Rory_ peering out at him through the cracks the night before. She was still alive, and she was being kept a prisoner in there. He wanted her back. He could see and smell and taste the old nights and the old her and them together and that couldn't be dead. Even if he couldn't  _have it_ , it had to still  _exist._  Right there. Inside this shell that was in front of him, if only he could spring her-pick the lock-find the key- _something._

"You caught him on a bad night."

" _This isn't about him!_ " Jess snapped. "Okay,  _screw him_.  _What's_  going on with  _YOU?_ " He repeated. " _This isn't you, Rory_. You  _know_  it isn't.  _What's_  going  _ON?_ " He followed her gaze so she couldn't look away.  _Look up, look up, look up, look up, look UP!_

"I don't know," She snapped back at him. "I don't know, "she repeated to herself, softly.

He felt the key turn in the latch.

 _Back away slowly…_  "Hey, uh... may-may-maybe we'll catch up at a better time," his tongue tripped over itself, afraid to believe...anything. But he needed to leave now. He retreated a few steps and then turned, walking, hands in pockets, towards his car. Until he remembered.

"Happy birthday, by the way... Wasn't that a couple weeks ago, your birthday?"

As his steps carried him away, as he got into his car, as he twisted the key in the ignition, it sank into his stomach and rang in his ears...all of it...

You can't answer a simple question because you don't have the answer. You wage an inner war. It wears you to threadbare fatigue, pretending that everything is okay when inside you were falling apart.

Teeth gritting frustration, bashing your head against the wall while someone demands something from you that you don't understand. Until, finally, you admit that the answer eludes you...and instead of finding the answer...the question becomes clear.

_You have to start somewhere._

* * *

_"If you don't make an effort and participate in your own rehabilitation I will call the judge and you can forget about any plea deal when I get done with him. Not to mention the jail time you were promised."_

_The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his stomach turned. She had the power to do that._

_"Now let's try this again,...honestly try, to answer the question..." she paused before asking the question. "Why are YOU here?" she repeated, taking her glasses off and glaring at him._

_"I—I," he stammered._

_"Jess, it's simpler than you might think: Why. Are. You. Here?" she punctuated each word._

_"I don't know," he finally snapped at her, getting frustrated. "I don't know," he repeated, softly to himself._

_"And finally an honest answer," She shrilled happily. "Thank you, Jess."_

* * *

 


	6. April

_"_ _I know enough of the world now to have almost lost the capacity of being much surprised by anything"_

_―_ _**Charles Dickens** _ _,_ _**David Copperfield** _

_"…_ _Luke was always bailing my mom out," Jess shrugged._

_"_ _But he still took you in," Doris said patiently._

_"_ _He shouldn't have," Jess said, frustrated._

_"_ _But he did. He put a roof over your head. He gave you a job and wanted you to graduate high school."_

_"_ _And I did what I always do and screwed it up," Jess snapped at Doris._

_"_ _Do you really believe that?"_

_Jess shifted uncomfortably on the couch and looked at his hands. Suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable, he simply nodded his head._

_"_ _But something was different about this. The difference is not what you did, but how you felt about what you did, Jess. This time you felt ashamed. Yes, you did what you always do, but for the first time, you felt ashamed of doing what you always do," Doris said softly, looking at him over her glasses with her eyebrows raised._

_"_ _You know, I did want to graduate high school," He said very quietly. "Not for the diploma or anything, but just...wanted to graduate."_

* * *

As October turned to November and Thanksgiving drew closer, Luke saw Rory find her way back to Lorelai and re-enroll into Yale for the spring semester. Lorelai declared that they could set a date for their wedding.

Leading up to the science fair, Jess somehow convinced himself that he had hallucinated the nerdy girl with the unruly curly hair. "It feels like a very weird dream, rather than something that  _actually_ happened," he told Luke over the phone, the week before the fair.

"Jess, you came to Stars Hollow after you met her. I'm pretty sure that no dream -no matter how weird- would make you do that," Luke pointed out with a chuckle

"Yeah, I guess," Jess mumbled. The irony of running  _to_ Stars Hollow wasn't lost on him, either. Just to be sure, Jess checked the school's website only to see there  _was actually_  a science fair. Even so, he still didn't want to drive all the way to Connecticut again -that is until he read a manuscript from an up and coming author living in Bristol. Matt and Chris insisted that since Jess found the manuscript, he be the one to set up the meeting and attempt to sign the guy.

"So I guess I'll be around Tuesday evening," Jess told Luke, "if you're around."

"I'll be around."

"Actually, I'll probably get there later in the afternoon."

"Okay," Luke said, just as Lorelai got home from the Inn. "Come to the diner first. If you want to stay, you can."

"Staying above the diner is good; I have to get back early Wednesday."

"See you Tuesday afternoon then," Luke said before he hung up the phone.

"Hi," Lorelai greeted him. "Who were you talking to?"

"Hi," he greeted her with a kiss. "Dinner's almost ready," he said handing her a glass of wine. "That was Jess."

"How's he doing? He's coming back to Stars Hollow?" she asked. "He was just here," Lorelai said, sitting at the table while Luke finished preparing the meal.

"Yeah, he was," Luke said, grabbing plates from the table. "He's doing okay."

Lorelai took the glass from him. "He came by here after he left the diner last time."

"He did?" Luke asked curiously.

"He actually came to talk to  _me_. He apologized to me, "I kept waiting for him to whistle La Traviata louder, but he was on the level."

"What?"

"Charles Winchester-bluffing...M*A*S*H..."

"Ah." Luke was silent for a moment while wrapped his head around the reference and its connection to Jess. He ladled a savory sauce over forbidden rice and set the plate in front of Lorelai. "He's grown up a lot." Luke shrugged, turning back to the stove and to the second plate. "He just had a book published and he's got a solid job working at the publishing company that signed him," he added, a tiny bit of pride creeping into his voice.

"I don't think that's all it is. It's more than just a little maturity. Something or someone got to him." Lorelai said. "You don't go from high school dropout to full-time student and published author with no guidance. _Someone_  got to him."

"You think?" Luke frowned, contemplating, as he set his own place and sat down at the table.

"I know." For her, it had been Mia. Sweet, wise, patient Mia, who gentled her dreams out of her, like a beam of sunlight coaxing a reluctant flower to open. "That doesn't happen overnight."

"He hasn't mentioned a girlfriend or anything," Luke said lamely.

Lorelai suppressed an eye roll. "This is about way more than just a girl, or Jess finally growing up," she countered, shaking her head.

Luke took a forkful of rice and tender roast, chewing it for a span before nodding. "He's coming into town Tuesday. Hopefully, I'll have the chance to  _really_  talk to him about all this."

Luke silently observed his nephew over the last year in amazement. It was hard to put his finger on when or how it happened, but gone was the withdrawn, surly teenager...the one who had showed up on a bus in Stars Hollow...the one the town of Stars Hollow thought of as  _Jess_ , while his uncle hardly recognized the quiet, bookish kid he'd once known, wrapped in this bitter, sarcastic, camouflage and body armor. Luke might have been the only person on the planet who still looked at Jess and saw that kid he used to be; and when he ran off to California, Luke was possibly the only one who saw him for what he really was:  _a scared kid_.

Then suddenly, it was as if a switch had flipped on in his nephew's head. In the place of both the quiet child and the still quiet but  _tough as I need to be_  adolescent was a settled, calm, confident young man, working a job that he enjoyed and taking college classes. It was everything Luke had hoped for Jess at this stage in his life...that had seemed to be hoped in vain.

When his book - _The Subsect_ \- was first published, Jess tried to give Luke a copy, but he refused, telling Jess that he would much rather find it in a bookstore and pay the full retail price so that Jess would get the royalties. Luke looked forward to the day he could walk into a bookstore and buy the book; and when he reached the checkout, he would tell the salesperson with justifiable pride that the author was his nephew.

"Hey," Jess said by way of greeting when he showed up to the diner on Tuesday.

"When did you become an insurance agent?" Luke jibed, amused at the sight of his nephew wearing a proper suit, complete with a necktie and dress shoes.

"When Matt and Chris said 'wear a suit when you're representing this company,'" Jess deadpanned. "I'm gonna change now."

"So, uh, just wanted you to know you might run into Rory while you're here," Luke mentioned to Jess in an attempt at a casual tone while they were on their way to the science fair.

"Oh," Jess said quietly, pretending to take this at face value, but hoping that Luke would elaborate.

"She and Lorelai are talking again; she's planning on going back to Yale. Lorelai and I are going to set a date for the wedding. Soon, probably after the holidays."

"That's good," Jess said quietly, looking out the window. "Rory belongs at Yale," he paused. "It's a good thing with you and Lorelai too."

"So," Luke said awkwardly as he pulled up to the curb next to the school, put it into gear, and pulled the parking brake, "should I come in? Is this something you want to do alone?"

"Ummm, yeah. But I do want you to come inside -just hang back," Jess said, unbuckling and nervously fumbling with his clothes.

* * *

"Hi?" the girl said quizzically when she saw Jess in her school gymnasium. Her hair was slightly less frizzy.

_Makes sense, helmet hair,_ Jess thought. Her glasses were indeed red, as he thought he remembered them. It really did seem as if he'd only seen her in a dream. All of it was frighteningly surreal.

"Hi," Jess mumbled quietly, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"What are you doing here?"

_Morbid fascination,_ Jess thought to himself, _like a train wreck._ "Oh, I just came down to see the potato clock," he answered awkwardly. "It's amazing a potato can do that."  _What the hell was he even doing here?_

"Potatoes are extraordinary," she said flatly, attempting to fill the silence.

Jess' eyes zeroed in on the Bristol board above her head. Front and center were the pictures she'd snapped of him and a picture of her. Under his picture, the single word "BROTHER" was spelled out in bold letters.

A lead weight fell to the pit of Jess' stomach and made his throat go dry. After a long moment, his eyes traveled, following lines leading upwards from their pictures to something still more unnerving. Two more pictures. One of them looked eerily like Jimmy -but not quite. It was labeled  _Forensic Artist Produced Age Progression Image_. The picture next to it was almost just as strange. Jess' own scowl, single raised eyebrow, and unflinching stare peered out at him from another face. It was the face of someone close to his age. The posture was similar -even the bone structure. The hair was lighter, the eyes gray and closer together. There were a thousand other differences, but it was basically a mirror image of himself. Except it wasn't -it was Jimmy.

Jess swallowed hard, he was suddenly parched. Jimmy and Jess' photos were encircled with bright red ink. On either side of it were snapshots of two other men, each clutching a spot on their head from which hair had evidently been plucked, their faces crossed out by the same red ink.

Jess swallowed hard, nodding. "So, I guess, uh…" his voice cracked and his eyebrows remained raised, his sight locked on the words that were making his head -and the entire room- spin.  _DNA Homecoming: Molecular Make Up...Hypothesis..._

"Yeah. It's you," the girl confirmed. "Or Jimmy anyway."

"And you're sure?" he asked with trepidation, still looking upward and feeling lightheaded.

"Absolutely," she answered, turning around on her stool and grasping a thick stack of paper. "You wanna see my report?"

"Uh, yeah," Jess said quietly, taking the paper from her and flipping through it, biting his lower lip and staring at the page...words and sentences stringing together once again in their usual fashion. "You're definitely smart."

"I've never been tested."

"But you  _did_ all this. You wrote things in here I actually have to take more than a few seconds to figure out," Jess said absently while his eyes flitted up and down the page.

"Humble much?"

"Not what I meant," he said hollowly. His eyes fell upon the report's header. "April…" This girl was his sister. She had a name and her name was April.

"It took you that long to notice my name? And you're surprised there are things in there you don't immediately understand?"

He almost laughed at her dry humor. That may have been all the proof he needed.

"Nardini," she said the name as a statement as if he'd asked for it. "My mom's last name."

He nodded. "I figured."

"So, my father was married to your mother…?" she asked, guessing.

"Briefly."

"It's a good thing, or all of this would have been much harder. The last name helped in the research," April paused before adding. "Jimmy was never married to my mom."

Jess nodded mechanically, still trying to read the words on the page, and desperately trying to make sense of the onslaught of information hitting him all at once.

"So," Jess paused awkwardly, "I'm your brother?"

"Yes." She sat ramrod straight, her posture perfectly befitting her directness.

"I didn't know about you."

"I know."

"If I did, I would have, uh… Jesus, I don't actually know…" Jess sighed, running his hand through his hair nervously.

"I was looking for Jimmy," April said simply, shrugging her shoulders.

"...And you got me instead."  _My sympathies._  He almost said the words aloud.

"That I did. Which is why I changed the entire project."

"So...sorry you didn't win," Jess said, awkwardly changing the subject.

April flicked her wrist. "It's okay. The solar pizza oven took first. Environmentalism is very in right now."

"Right, well...Oh. Here," Jess extended his arm to hand her back the report.

"Oh, you can keep it. I've got copies."

"Okay, thanks," Jess shifted his weight uncomfortably. He wanted nothing more than to bolt for the door; the conversation seemed pretty finished, so he could have left very easily. But for some reason, his feet remained rooted in place. "Right. So... should I stay?" he asked, feeling a bizarre sense of responsibility.

April cocked her head slightly. "Why?"

"Right," he nodded. "Okay. So, I guess...I'll go," he shrugged, taking one step back, and then another.

"Okay. Thanks for coming by," April said, offering him a tiny smile.

"Yeah. Thanks for the report," Jess said, before turning from her and searching frantically for the exit.  _What just happened? Holy…_ he thought to himself as he disappeared through the gymnasium doors.

Luke looked on, observing their entire interaction from a distance. When Jess left the gymnasium, Luke followed him out the door.

* * *

"You should tell Jimmy about this," Luke said when he found Jess by the truck.

"No," Jess said resolutely, holding onto the truck's frame, hoping his queasiness would pass.

"Jess... "

"Luke,  _no_." He tried to breathe slowly, but it was impossible.

"But she's his daughter," Luke pointed out.

"And that's not my problem. This is  _his_  mess," Jess said wishing for the first time in a long while that he had a cigarette to smoke. His fingers itched for one; he found himself patting down his pockets, even though they weren't there.

"And she's your sister."

"No, there's  _a ninety-four percent chance that Sample C shares DNA consistent with siblings,_ " Jess quoted the report April gave him. He fished around his bag, remembering he'd stowed one pack, along with a lighter.

"That makes her family," Luke insisted.

"Sharing chromosomes _doesn't_  make her my family," Jess glared.

The drive back to Stars Hollow was silent while Jess read her report fully. He rolled down a window, so as to not bother Luke with his cigarette smoke.

Pulling into his parking space at the diner, Luke shut off the engine and turned to Jess. "She's your sister; that makes her a part of you," Luke insisted.

Jess stared straight ahead. "I know...I just…" Jess stammered stubbing out his cigarette. "It's a lot," he said quietly. "I mean, this girl has been here, not just on this  _planet_ , but  _twenty miles away from Stars Hollow this entire time_."

Luke grew quiet for a prolonged moment. "That is…" he puffed out a sigh with the weight of the subject

Jess stared at the diner without seeing it.

"But…" Luke hesitated. "She's his daughter, he has a right to know, don't you think?"

_Does he? Does he have the right_?  _Does he have any right?_  Jess blinked rapidly and drew in a deep a breath. "You don't know, Luke -he could already know about her, and he just  _blew her off_. It wouldn't be the first time." Jess bit his lip and shook his head with determination. "If he doesn't know, I'm sure as hell not gonna tell him."


	7. Little Boy Blue And The Man On the Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to make a very important promise at this point in the story...I gave Anna a lobotomy, she is NOT the Anna of canon. It doesn't mean you like her, it just means that you might be able to see why she does the things she does a little better. Because it didn't make sense in canon. The same goes for Jimmy...
> 
> For this Chapter, I'm adding a TW: Talk of Alcoholism

"No damn cat, and no damn cradle."  
― Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle

_Jess became very silent when Doris brought up the subject of his father. He knew he had to talk about it. This topic, he knew Doris would not let him sweep under the rug._

_But he just couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud. So, instead, he did the next best thing._

_Jess sat on his bench in Washington Square Park, pencil in hand, and let the memory flood over him.._ _._

* * *

_Venice Beach, CA 2003:_

_It had been a few weeks since Jess moved. Subtle similarities between father and son emerged that even a casual observer would see an obvious connection. It started with little, innocuous things-they both chain-smoked and drank A LOT of black coffee in the morning; and they rarely said a word to anyone until the coffee was gone...just sat at a picnic table right outside the kitchen door, out of respect for Sasha and Lily's lungs, paperback spread open with the left hand, the right alternating between pencil, cigarette, and coffee cup._

_It still unnerved Jess, and, noticeably, Jimmy, when they happened to tap the ash off their cigarette at the identical moment, or when the sound of coffee slurped happened in stereo. Not that it happened all the time-just often enough to be creepy._

" _I, uh," Jimmy cleared his throat, breaking the silence one morning as the coffee was still brewing, jolting Jess out of the book he was reading. "I'd like you to come with me somewhere tonight. I mean, it's entirely up to you. I can't make you go, but I would like you to come…with me."_

_Jess narrowed his eyes "For –what?"_

" _Just be ready at six," Jimmy said before he went inside to get his coffee. He came back with a mug covered in Van Gogh sunflowers and a tattered copy of_ Cat's Cradle _, annotated in several different colors of ink and faded graphite._

_Jess had a difficult time sinking back into the lands of the Lilliputians while Jimmy sat, teeth dented yellow pencil hovering over father and son on the day the bomb dropped._

* * *

Much as Jess needed Luke's moral support in that echoing school gymnasium full of junior scientist hopefuls and doting parents, even if he needed that moral support was of necessity half the gymnasium away, once they entered Stars Hollow, Jess preferred to be alone with his thoughts to continue digesting the details and implications of April's report. When he got back to the apartment above the diner, he checked his cellphone-which he'd inadvertently left on the nightstand. There were three missed calls and, consequently, three voicemails waiting for him. One from Matt:

" _Hey, Ed called -he's signing the contract. He mentioned plans to leave town for the holiday and he said he wanted to meet again -Wednesday morning for coffee. Good job, man. This is a big signing for us."_

The second from Jimmy:

_Hey Jess, just wanted to say 'hi' and Happy Thanksgiving. Sasha and Lily say 'hi' too. I...uh...missed your birthday again...so happy birthday. Twenty-two is a big one. Hope you did something fun. Anyway, hope you're doing good. Call me soon._

Jess' stomach clenched. After not hearing from Jimmy for months, he chose  _now_  to call? Of course; Jimmy always had excellent timing. He was surprised Jimmy remembered his birthday at all, even if he was a year off and a month late.

The third message was the shortest:

_Twenty-one...you're twenty-one. Happy Birthday. Sorry...I did know that. Don't do anything I would do… Um...right._

Yep, father of the year.

Jess hung his head with a deep sigh. April's appearance and subsequent confirmation, at least tentatively, as sharing his DNA, brought up ten million questions that were now swirling around in his head. Had Jimmy once lived twenty miles away from Stars Hollow? For how long? And how much worse did that make it that, by his own admission, he never once in all those years so much as checked to see if his son was dead or alive? Did he  _know_  about April and show just as little concern for her existence? Or had April's mother kept him from knowing? And if so...why? What had he done to her, or what did she know about him that made her afraid to tell him that he had a child?

Once the grand disaster of his nineteenth year was dead and buried, Jess came to consider Jimmy as hardly more than a distant acquaintance who had allowed him to visit for an extended period of time. His stay in California had come to an end with Jess telling Jimmy that "It just [wasn't] home," and he desperately missed New York. Jimmy had handed him a manila envelope with cash inside as he left, refusing to take no for an answer. As if that would somehow make up for something-assuage his conscience by convincing himself that he was taking care of his son...that he wouldn't find himself high and dry on the wrong side of the tracks, for at least...what? A week?

These days, they talked on the phone occasionally. Like he did with his mother, Jess made sure he could get ahold of him. Jimmy would call on the occasional holiday and the day he married Sasha, but mostly their relationship was unchanged from the day they met. Jimmy would say that he hoped Jess would come visit again sometime, 'cause Lily missed him. Lily… the one kid Jimmy was kind of there for.

Jess shook his head and picked up the stack of papers once again, leafing through them and trying not to resent his step-sister. Not like it was her fault. And she was a sweet kid. But why did she have to be the only child whose feelings Jimmy Mariano had ever verbalized concern over?

And if April knew about Lily...what would that do to her?

Jess pushed the thought from his mind, burying himself instead in the scientific jargon in black and white in front of his previously unseeing eyes. The detail in April's report was seriously impressive-even the parts that didn't talk about genomes, chromosomes, and silica-based nano-beads.

Of specific interest was her section on how she chose her samples. One of the subjects from whom a sample was taken was her mother's college friend. The other was an ex-boyfriend. And then there was Jimmy...the guy whose picture was stuck in the last pages of her mother's journal, the words "Classic Mariano" scrawled across the back. With much scouring of said journal, she found exactly one page that made mention of a "Jimmy Mariano," mostly ranting about his infuriating stubbornness, with little explanation of the nature of their relationship.

She also gave scientific explanations as to the perceived likelihood/unlikelihood of each man being her father.  _Because_  that's  _not disturbing._  Her report also detailed the computer program she accessed through her school to morph the old picture of Jimmy into a projection of what he  _might_  look like now.  _Yeah...no_ might  _about it. That was Jimmy._

Reading and rereading the report, it appeared that April was interested only in the scientific aspect of her patrilineage. None of this indicated, in any concrete way, a desire to meet or to get to know this man, whoever he might be. What her private thoughts or motivations for this were, she might not even  _realize_  on a conscious level; and it certainly wasn't his business to draw them out. So he decided he would do nothing. After all, confiding in Luke aside, this was not a matter he wanted to be public knowledge if it didn't have to be.

* * *

Lorelai nearly spits out her coffee when Jess walked downstairs dressed in his business suit.

"Morning," she choked.

"It's for work," he sighed when he saw Lorelai eying his outfit.

She hesitated a moment. "The jacket doesn't fit you."

"I'm well aware of its incongruity, thank you," he returned dryly.

"No, I mean literally. It doesn't fit."

Jess stifled his irritation. "I got it at a thrift store. It's my size," he said with a deliberate lack of inflection so that sarcasm wouldn't bleed into his words. He'd thought they made progress the last time they talked. But, even dressed in a suit, ready to go to a business meeting, she still found something to criticize.

"Yeah, but the fabric shouldn't hang loose in the back or...sag, and the pants need to be hemmed. It's not so bad from the front, but from behind it looks like a little boy wearing daddy's clothes."

He mentally sighed. It wasn't as if he could do something about it. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind, for the next one."

"Rory's home. She came home a few days ago," Lorelai blurted out a moment later. "You just missed her."

"Yeah, I heard," Jess said, staring into his coffee cup. "I have to go," He mumbled before walking out the door. "Would you tell Luke I'll be back later?"

* * *

_Come on," Jimmy said, pulling into the beach parking at the end of Rose Street and grabbing a few beach chairs_

_Jess simply raised an eyebrow._

" _Just come with me. There's something I've been trying to tell you and it's…it's better to do it here," Jimmy stammered nervously._

_Jess walked behind his father, not really knowing_ why  _he was following this man's footprints through the sand, but nonetheless, here he was. Jimmy walked straight up to a group of about fifteen people standing on the beach. Everyone seemed to know him. Jess hung back as they all arranged their beach chairs on the sand, in a circle. When they were set up, Jimmy glanced back at him and his eyes flitted to an empty chair beside him, but Jess pretended not to notice...until he couldn't. They were being watched and waited upon. Begrudgingly, he took a seat._

_The first person to stand up to talk was an older man, Rob. He read the Preamble. When it was time for newcomers to introduce themselves in the traditional fashion, Jimmy noticed the horrified look that crossed Jess' face, and quickly stood up, introducing Jess as his son, a visitor._

_This was an AA meeting. Jess looked at Jimmy, who had sat back down again and was busy going through a book he must have had in his back pocket. So this was it -this was what he'd come all the way from Connecticut for...to discover about his father._

* * *

Jess had the signed contract in his messenger bag as he walked into the diner just before lunch. He was going to pack his duffel, say goodbye to Luke, and drive back to Philadelphia.

"I could alter it for you," Lorelai called after him from her stool at the counter.

Jess lifted his head, dazed. "What?"

"The jacket," she clarified, "pants, too. Some time when you don't need to wear a suit for a few days, you could bring it to me and I could alter it to fit you." She paused for a beat. "Take your measurements. Play Mottel the Tailor."

He tried to suppress a smirk, imagining Lorelai with a fake beard and spectacles. He nodded slowly and murmured, "Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles..."

Lorelai's bitten back smile almost mirrored his own. "You too."

"Oh, hi," Luke greeted Jess, walking through the curtain while adjusting his shirtsleeves. "Someone named Chris called here for you. He mentioned that you didn't pick up your cell phone and that it was important."

Jess' mouth twisted, slightly panicked that Chris was calling him at the diner. "I should go call him back," Jess said, heading upstairs.

"Hey," Chris greeted him.

"Sorry, I left my phone –"

"Don't worry about that. You got a phone call this morning from a woman named Anna Nardini."

"Nardini?" Jess grumbled. "Lovely."

"Everything okay?"

"I'll tell you when I get back to Philly," he sighed. "Did she leave a number?"

"Yeah," Chris said and gave him the number Anna had left. "Oh, by the way, just go ahead and do the line editing for Ed."

"Uh…oh…okay," Jess stammered, his fingers slipping as he wrote the last digit, and then tried to fix it.

"Matt and I are both slammed right now. Unless you don't want to and you want to go back to reading the slush pile."

"No, no that's fine. I just haven't done it from start to finish yet."

"You do all the time for the 'zine. Just… if you get stuck or have questions, let us know. You've read that manuscript like three times and know it better than either of us. So we voted that you take it."

"Right okay, I..thanks," Jess said in shock that he was being given the responsibility to edit an entire manuscript. Up to that point, he had only worked on Truncheon's literary magazine and read through the slush pile of submissions they got.

"You're still coming to my grandma's for dinner, right?"

"That's still the plan." Jess nodded, as if it were a helpful telephone gesture, catching himself with mild chagrin.

"Good. You need to get out of the house. And my cousin Shelly is going to be there," Chris intoned with an unsubtle pointedness.

"You are not hooking me up with your cousin…goodbye Chris," Jess rolled his eyes.

"You're a monk."

"I'm busy."

"Goodbye."

* * *

_The anger bubble in Jess' stomach grew as he sat through the requisite traditions of the meeting. When Rob called for volunteers, Jimmy got up. In other circumstances, Jess would have walked away already._

" _My name is Jimmy, and I'm an alcoholic."_

" _Hi Jimmy," the group said._

_"I brought my son with me tonight because I want him to know...that I screwed up...I mean, he knows I screwed up but I want him to understand why I screwed up, or part of why anyway... "_

_Jess stayed frozen in white-hot anger while Jimmy went on about how he abandoned him. "And...There were a lot of times...that I tried to work the steps, and I mostly did, but I couldn't really until I could look him in the eye and say I know what I did, leaving him high and dry like that. I figured he was better off. So that's...why I brought him here tonight." He finished talking, nodded as if that somehow concludes his confession, or explanation, or apology-without-an-apology._

* * *

Jess dialed the number Chris had given him and Anna introduced herself as April's mother. She insisted he come to her business in Woodbridge. She said it would be best if they met, and then hung up before he had an opportunity to argue with her.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked when he came up to the apartment. Jess had papers and books spread out in front of him but was staring off into space, lost in thought.

"April's mother, Anna, wants to meet today."

"Do you want me –?"

"Yes, come with me," Jess sighed, "please."

"When Lane gets here, we can go," Luke said without hesitation."Why does her mother want to meet you?"

"I don't know," Jess said, squeezing the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache, and losing the battle. "But I have a few questions of my own."

Luke nodded, "I'm sure you do." Luke paused hoping Jess would elaborate. "You want lunch?" he asked when Jess  _didn't_  elaborate.

"Not hungry," he murmured, eyes still closed.

"Thanksgiving is tomorrow. You should stay," Luke urged mildly.

"I have plans already, and I have to work Friday," Jess shook his head.

Luke stood, nodding...stopped, went to walk out the door, and paused, "I'll be downstairs if you need anything"

"I know," Jess paused, hearing the unspoken words. "Thank you."

* * *

_After the meeting, while everyone drank their coffee, Jess slipped away and found a bench overlooking the ocean and lit a cigarette._

" _You're upset?" Jimmy asked, sitting down next to him._

_"I was in a 'better place' with you gone-are you serious?" Jess launched into Jimmy. "Like Liz wasn't gonna find more losers to take your place?"_

_"She sent you to live with her brother."_

_"When I was sixteen!"_

_"When I left, I thought Liz would go back and live with her dad!"_

_"Well, she didn't! She stayed in New York and dated every loser in the East Village. William passed away when I was four. Ever think of checking?"_

_Jimmy nodded, looking at the ground. "Yeah...yeah, I did."_

_"You checked?"_

_"...I thought about it."_

_"So, what am I, just a step in your recovery?" Jess asked through gritted teeth. "Is that why you finally let me stay?"_

" _Not at all," Jimmy defended._

" _Bull!"_

" _You're not just a step, Jess! I wanted you to understand! I want to try and have a fresh start here… with you. I'm trying."_

_"You know what? It doesn't count! You didn't say_ any  _of that to_ me!"  _Jess was indignant. Furious at himself that he still had the capacity to feel betrayed. "You said it to a bunch of people_ I've  _never met, people who are there to give you a slap on the back and tell you that you did a good job. So whatever kind of badge you were trying to earn..." Jess shook his head with a look of disgust, "you didn't get it."_

" _You have every right to be angry to be with me. I don't blame you one bit. But at the very least, Jess," Jimmy paused as the lump in his throat grew. "I wanted you to know the effort I had put…am still putting into my sobriety."_

* * *

Jess and Luke sat in his truck outside a red house in Woodbridge.

"This is the address Anna gave me," Jess started."Thank you for doing this," Jess said suddenly.

"Do you want me to stay in the car?"

He nodded and took a deep breath. "If I'm not back out in twenty minutes, maybe call my cell."

Jess knocked on the door to be greeted by a woman in her thirties with dark, shoulder length hair.

"Jess?"

"Anna?"

"Come in," Anna smiled at him. Her house was filled with clothes, pillows, fabrics, and candles.

A wave of nausea swelled over Jess, and he could only hope it would ebb. He could visualize a collection of clowns on the far wall, next to a newspaper clipping of the  _Inferno's_  grand reopening.

"Tea?"

"Uh, sure." Jess inhaled and exhaled, deeply and quietly.

"Thank you for coming all the way out here to meet me." It was a business meeting smile-not ungenuine but offered for a purpose.

"You didn't give me much of a choice," he countered, easing himself into an overstuffed chair she gestured toward.

"I wanted to apologize to you." She poured from a china teapot encircled with roses, to a matching cup with its own saucer, and stirred in honey without asking whether he wanted any.

Jess raised an eyebrow, "For what?"

"I'm sure this isn't the way anyone wants to find out about a family member. April got obsessed with winning that science contest, and she's really a smart, driven kid. She's already written a short novel, and she's got her own website. She went through my old journal and put the whole thing together and, frankly, didn't tell me anything about it till way after the fact.

"Wow, she's a writer," Jess mumbled, fiddling with his teacup. "It's a little surprising," he said out loud.

"I would not have allowed her to track you down for a science fair. Especially, if I knew she was going to go after strangers for hair samples."

"Jimmy didn't know did he?"

"I never told him," Anna confirmed making direct eye contact with Jess. "I…well I...I had my reasons." Her glance wavered for a moment, and she swallowed, pursing her lips, returning her eyes to his. "I don't regret it. We want for nothing and always have."

"Well, he's never been on the short list for the father of the year." Jess grimaced lightly and lifted his shoulders in a half apologetic shrug. "I'm not that close with him. I lived with him for a few months and we talk a few times a year, but that's it."

"Is he good? Is he happy?" She seemed eager and guarded at the same time...which fit, considering Jimmy.

"I'm not sure about happy, but he's doing good -about as good as Jimmy's ever done. He's remarried and has his own business on the Santa Monica Pier."

"He loved the beach," Anna mused with half a smile.

"Does April want to know Jimmy? I mean, now that she knows  _who_ her father is? She went through all this trouble..." Jess trailed off.

"I've decided to leave it up to her," Anna sighed heavily. "I still don't like any of it, but if she's really determined -she's old enough now that I can't stop her."

Jess nodded as she spoke. He still had a million questions to ask, but couldn't ask a strange woman he just met.

"And if she asks me to put her in touch with Jimmy, what should I say?" Jess finally asked.

"If she's still really set on it then…then you can tell her how to get in touch with him." Her tone matched the flop of her arms, weary, yet reluctantly resigned

"I can do that if you're okay with it. But just, if you need to get in touch with me…don't call my work," Jess said jotting down his cell number.

* * *

_Jess waited nervously as Doris read his account of the meeting on the beach at Hiroshima._

" _What happened afterward?" She finally asked._

" _Nothing, I wrote a letter to Liz and Jimmy and I never brought it up again," Jess answered simply._

* * *

 


	8. Peace Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying this story. It's kinda my baby...and reviews are coffee to the soul

_"_ _Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival."_

_―_ _**C.S. Lewis** _ _,_ _**The Four Loves** _

_"…_ _It doesn't matter." Jess argued._

_"_ _What do you mean?" Doris asked._

_"_ _It doesn't matter if I love her. She doesn't want to be with me."_

_"_ _Your heart is still broken."_

_"_ _I was the one that ran away when things got hard. I was the one that didn't deserve her."_

_Doris caught his eye and held his gaze, "But you also laid your heart bare for her. A broken heart is a broken heart, it doesn't matter who did the breaking."_

_"_ _Really? Is that the best you can do?" Jess asked, his stomach in knots._

_"Realizing that this isn't all on you is very important. Understanding and accepting that you are both at fault -that's crucial. You weren't the only one doing the hurting, Jess. It's okay to admit that she hurt you, a lot."_

_"_ _I miss her so much I can't breathe," he confided. "And I do love her. I don't know if I will ever stop."_

_"_ _Why should you? I suspect your love is a fact even more than it is a feeling. You love her because you love who she is, and what she saw in you. The last thing you need to do is stop. You need to move forward."_

_"_ _I want her to be happy."_

_"_ _She wants the same for you. If you love her, if you want to give her happiness, let that be your gift. Let her see you...happy. Odd as it may seem - that is real love."_

* * *

Quick footsteps carried Jess down the pathway from the Nardini house.

"So?" Luke asked when Jess got back in the truck.

"Jimmy definitely has a type," he shrugged. "She's practically a brunette doppelganger of his girlfriend Sasha. Frankly, creepy."

"Not what I meant!" Luke said with a broad gesture that ended with him scratching the back of his neck beneath the bill of his baseball cap.

"Anna wants to let April decide."

"What about Jimmy?"

"What _about_  Jimmy?" Jess asked.

"You aren't going to tell him?" His fingers splayed wide from upturned palms, disbelieving.

"It's up to April," Jess shrugged.

"She is his daughter, though. I mean, I know, Jimmy doesn't deserve much by the way of the universe cutting him any slack, but…" Luke trailed off.

"For now, if April wants to know her father, she'll ask. But I'm not going to tell him unless she wants me to."

"Fair enough," Luke said, driving back to the diner. "Sure you don't want to stay for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow afternoon? Sookie is cooking."

"I really can't stay."

"But baby it's cold outside?" Luke deadpanned.

" _Too_  much time with Lorelai." Jess shook his head. "I have plans with Chris and I have to work," Jess paused, wanting to give Luke more than just an excuse for leaving. "I also have to meet with my advisor next week and I have a paper due the same day and won't have time between now and then to work on it."

"You're really taking this school thing seriously."

"It's been helpful with my job," Jess answered casually.

"That's it? You're not going for a degree?"

"For now," Jess answered simply. "I don't really have a plan."

"There's no reason you shouldn't have a degree of some sort."

"I'm good where I am," Jess paused for a minute. "The meetings I've been going to were to sign a new author. Matt and Chris are having me do some of the editings."

"Jess, that's really good. I'm glad you're doing so well," Luke pulled into the space behind the diner.

"Thank you for coming," Jess said softly at first.

"I just sat in the truck."

"The last few days have been…crazy…" Jess paused. "And I really appreciate you coming with me."

This is what Lorelai was talking about,  _this_ change. Not even Luke had seen Jess so… so,  _sincere_.

* * *

"You should get going before it gets too late," Luke said after the dinner rush cleared out.

Liz let out an exasperated sigh and refused to make eye contact with anyone.

"Hi," Jess said to Liz, catching the not-so-subtle hint.

"Oh, so I'm not invisible?" Liz snapped. "You staying for dinner with everybody tomorrow?"

"I have plans."

"Sookie has been cooking for three days so there'll be plenty to eat. If you wanted to stay, you could. It's entirely up to you," Lorelai suggested.

"You too, huh?" Jess took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. "I'll be right back," he took the opportunity to slip out the door and put his bag in the car.

As he rounded the corner back to the diner, Jess walked right into Rory. The impact, psychological as well as physical, knocked the books from Rory's arms in an awkward flutter and quadruple-thud.

"I…I'm so sorry, such a klutz," Rory said, bending down to pick up her books and stepping on his foot in the process.

"It's fine…. it's…"Jess trailed off nervously, trying to ignore the pain. He knew he might run into her, so why had he turned into a nervous, stuttering moron? "Go…go ahead," he stammered, holding the door for her.

"At least he came back to say goodbye before he deserts his family for the holiday," Liz huffed from her stool next to Lorelai.

"You're not staying for Thanksgiving?" Rory asked, looking at him with her piercing blue eyes.

"No, I am. I'm staying," Jess decided instantly.

"I thought you said you couldn't stay," Luke said, surprised.

"Things change."

"So... you're staying?" Rory asked.

"I'm staying."

"I'm glad you're staying."

"I'm glad… I'm glad you're glad I'm staying." _Oh, good god, I am a babbling idiot!_. Jess walked back upstairs. It only took five words from Rory for him to cave.

"What was that?" Luke asked when both Rory and Jess were gone.

"That was the last episode of Rory and Jess: The Lost Years," Lorelai answered her fiancé.

* * *

Jess spent the majority of the day working on his paper before driving to the inn. He couldn't remember the last time had a Thanksgiving dinner with his mother. He figured it must have been before his second stepfather left; he couldn't have been more than fifteen. Liz never cooked and he was dragged to Step-Dad Number Two's sister's house, "Aunt" Something-or-Other. The food was awful. What's-his-face and Liz got into an argument because Jess refused to touch the dry turkey or the runny mashed potatoes with the lumpy gravy. He remembered Liz yelling at him that night when they got home. The following year she left town with her "soul mate" of the moment and gave him cash to order a pizza.

Much to his chagrin, when he arrived at the Dragonfly, he found that his mother had invited her crazy Renaissance fair friends to join them. He entered the banquet room just as one of them was doing something with a knife that looked dangerous. Luke and Rory were just sitting down to the table, which was draped in a red tablecloth.

" _Huzzah!_  You're so good at that, Stu! Really. Too bad you didn't put all that effort into something you can make money at," Liz exclaimed. " _There_  you are!" she snapped at Jess when he came into the living room. "You're  _late!_ "

"I was told three. It's two fifty-five," he said to her.

He nodded at Luke in greeting and shrugged when Luke gave him a questioning look as to why Liz was upset. He caught Rory's eye for a second, and her face lit with happiness. It was almost enough for him to turn and look behind him to see who else had walked in the room.

"So, when are you coming back out on the Renaissance fair circuit with us, Luke?" Stu asked.

"Sometime after I'm drugged and lobotomized," Luke answered. "Don't get any ideas."

"You're the funniest, smartest guy I know, Luke," Stu said.

"I'm calling him Yakov from now on," Liz joked, and Jess rolled his eyes.

"Please don't judge me by this," Luke said, leaning toward Rory.

"I won't. Yakov," Rory teased.

"We're just minutes away from eating, everybody!" Lorelai announced when she came into the dining room. "And everyone is here, " she said looking right at Jess.

"This is a beautiful place," Jess said.

"Thanks," Lorelai said, "I'll give you the tour after dinner," she smiled at him and motioned for Luke to follow her into the next room.

"…But I'm wondering when Jess is coming to join us again," asked the bald guy who'd once given Jess advice on the ways in which a prison education could benefit him, and who had made a point of ebulliently introducing him to the owners of every single booth at the Faire. Jess thought his name was Bob.

"You've been to the Ren Faire?" Rory asked him, amused.

"There was a fair close to Philly, so I went for the day to see Liz and TJ."

"For an  _hour._ He wouldn't even  _entertain_  the idea of dressing up," Liz said.

"Good. Because I can't see you in tights," Rory joked. Jess almost choked on his drink.

"Really? 'Cause I think they'd look great on him!" TJ noted enthusiastically.

"Of course you do," Jess mumbled.

"I'm tellin' Ya!" TJ continued, predictably failing to note the sarcasm in Jess' tone. "There's nothin' like 'em!"

"Did you drive all the way from Philadelphia to have dinner with...?" Stu asked Jess.

"He didn't even tell me he was  _town_ ," Liz cut Stu off.

"Excuse me," Rory said when her phone rang and she walked into the other room and was gone for a few minutes.

"You didn't tell your own mother you were  _in town?_ " TJ asked him in a horrified tone.

"I wasn't planning on being here  _this_  long," Jess explained, feeling like a kid talking himself out of trouble with his parents.

"Well, what were you planning on?" Liz asked.

"I...I, uh... I planned to have dinner with my friend Chris." Jess answered tentatively.

"So you planned to spend the holiday with your  _friend's_  family, but not yours." Liz cut him an angry glare.

"I…uh…" Jess stammered.

"Dinner is served!" Sookie announced, walking into the dining room, proudly carrying the turkey. She was followed by three wait staff, who bore, in turns, the remainder of the grand feast.

"Hey! You okay?" Lorelai asked when Rory took her seat.

"Kind of," Rory answered quietly.

"You sure?"

"I'm just hungry," Rory half smiled at her mom.

"Okay, everybody!" Sookie began once everyone was seated, "Make sure that you save room for pie! Because we have  _lots and lots_  of pie!" She sounded almost panicked.

A general hum and clatter began, the sound of which graces almost every holiday table, requests and 'thank you's, dishes and plates passed in equal number, serving spoons scraping the sides of large platters, silverware clinking against glasses...laughter.

"Now this is some good cranberry sauce...with the orangeness and the cinnamon taste," TJ complimented loudly. "You know if they'd had this cranberry sauce at the first Thanksgiving, I bet they wouldn't have ever had wars with the Indians ever again!"

One of his cronies, who had shown up to Thanksgiving dinner in chain mail armor and a dangerously real looking broadsword agreed, lifting a 'pint of grog' as he'd dubbed it to toast the sentiment.

Lorelai lifted her own 'pint' because somebody was toasting something, even if it made less than no sense whatsoever.

"Why do you encourage this?" Luke murmured, leaning toward her.

"Because thou doth not desire to irk the ire of those in want of wit, lest they turn upon you with yon broadsword," she replied cheerily.

"No need to be a fustilarian dorbel about it," Jess intoned, likewise leaning toward his uncle, but speaking past him.

"A what?" Lorelai frowned.

"Oh, nothing."

Rory spluttered, almost spilling her cider.

"What did he say, what did he say?" Lorelai whispered urgently across the table.

"Or it could'a been these sweet potatoes that did it-made peace with the Indians-'cause let me tell you these things are good! So marshmallowy!" TJ continued, as usual, marching to his own drummer.

Rory bit her lips together, eyes dancing, uncertain whether to take sides. Shrugging a moment later, she answered, "He called you a petty, nit-picking, schoolteacher who wastes her time on things that are unimportant."

Lorelai sneered. "Ah! Quick-give me an insult to shoot back!"

Rory got a pen from her purse and scribbled something on a receipt, handing it awkwardly and surreptitiously to her mother under the table.

Lorelai skimmed the words and turned triumphantly to Jess. "Go prick thy face and overheard...overed… _wait, what does that say?"_

"Over-red," Rory whispered.

"Okay," Lorelai shrugged. "Go prick thy face and over-red thy fear, thou lily-livered boy!"

Jess lifted his glass, tipping it sarcastically in her direction. "Nice one," he nodded drily.

Liz had been observing this exchange, and pulled herself up taller, raising her voice above the general buzz. "Lorelai told me you were here-that you've been  _staying_  here, commuting to work, and she's helping to mend your clothes-and you don't even tell me you're in town?" Liz asked halfway through the meal.

"Jeez, here we go!" he said rolling his eyes.

"Jess William!" she said a little louder than she intended. "Don't give me that attitude."

Lorelai looked quickly down at her plate and Rory involuntarily slunk in her chair, embarrassed for him.

"I was nearby on business and crashed in my old room for the night. That's it! No big deal," he said quietly, hoping not to make a scene.

"Is there a blacksmith?" Lorelai looked up again, starting to ramble, as was her habit in tense situations- _dodge, deflect._  "It seems like you would have to have a blacksmith with all the armor, and-oh! Do you have horses? It feels like you should have lots of horses even though it's kind of a contained space and the land mines would be horrendous and stink up the place. But if you had blacksmiths then it would seem like a waste if there were no horses for him to shoe. Or her. Can't forget about Kate. There must have been other Kates, maybe not that good with armor, because she was phenomenal. I never understood how she could lift the anvil though."

Rory smiled encouragingly, ready to pipe in about her favorite feminist farris in alliterative fashion.

"So THAT'S where they went! When  _The Music Man_ put all the traveling anvil salesmen out of business, the anvils started traveling with Ren faires!"

" _Oh!_ That's  _right!_ " Rory exclaimed, and Jess frowned, trying to work out what the anvil salesman in  _The Music Man_  had to do with the price of tea in China.

"Well, it's a big deal to me!" Liz railed on, ignoring Lorelai's diplomacy.

Jess' head jerked back toward his mother.  _Right. I was being yelled at. How could I forget?_

"You  _never_  talk to me. You never tell me  _anything_! I never  _see_  you!" Liz nearly screeched.

"Would you chill out?" Jess hissed at her.

"No, I will _not_  'chill out'."

"I talk to you plenty. Now, can we please just drop this so that everyone else can enjoy the meal?" Jess shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Okay...I think it might be time for  _Bop It_ ," Lorelai said to Rory through a frozen smile, talking through her teeth.

Rory's eyes were large and fixed to the table. "I think we passed  _Bop It_ a few miles back."

"Liz, come on," Luke said stepping in, hoping to make peace.

Jess hoped that was the end of the conversation. He knew how out of control she could get. Liz easily played the martyr-the devoted mother whose ungrateful son neglected and maligned her with streaming tears and reproachful shouting.

There was a time when Jess gave in almost completely; playing the part with the bile and bitterness it called for. It was almost too easy to slip into being carelessly cruel, dismissive, lacking the slightest shred of respect. Jess knew he needed fortitude so he wouldn't take the bait, wouldn't let her push his buttons. It took a lot of distance from Liz for Jess to realize that he was sick of letting his mother paint him into the role of the jerk; he wouldn't do it anymore. She was his mother and he  _did_  love her, but he couldn't let himself get in too deep. He'd come too far to let her pull him down.

"Look, pie!" Sookie said frantically when the servers began just then to bring out the pie. "We have pumpkin, apple, and pecan pie."

"And coffee," Lorelai added. "Can't forget the coffee, coffee fights off the evil tryptophan. Coffee is the warrior...the champion, the knight...knighted by the prince's sword; it has armor made by Kate, fighting the good fight! Saving the damsel in distress! Taking all comers! Conquering...everyone...that could be conquered, and  _saving the land!_  And pie, pie is just an essential part of the meal, because, without pie, the pilgrims would have never made it through the winter. Pie won the Indians over," she said with a sweeping gesture toward TJ. "Pie is the  _ultimate peacemaker!_ "

When this seemed, at last, to have turned the tide of the conversation to safer territory, Rory leaned forward in her seat, whispering with a significant look, " _No, I believe that title goes to you."_

Her mother let out a sigh of relief and exhaustion, slumped forward until her forehead was on the table.

When most of the pie had been served, Jess noticed that Rory had slipped away from the table. After taking a surreptitious glance around to make certain Liz was sufficiently occupied, he palmed an extra piece of pumpkin pie and went to look for her.

He found her sitting outside, in a wicker chair on the porch, the sun long since down, the light came only from the moon, and golden from  _The_   _Dragonfly's_  windows. There was the chirping of crickets in the crisp fall night air.

"Hi," he said quietly. "You okay?"

"I've had better days," Rory answered with a shadow of a smile he knew she knew he understood.

"Pumpkin pie?" he asked handing her the extra piece.

"Thanks."

"So…" he drew out the word, sitting down in a chair opposite.

"So… I finished  _The Subsect_. I still can't believe you wrote a book."

"Oh?" Jess was nervous; Rory's opinion mattered more to him than anyone else's and he couldn't help but brace himself for a crushing blow.

"I loved it. I really did. And the dedication was well deserved."

"Thank you," Jess smiled warmly.

"Does Luke know?"

"Nope. He wants to find it in a bookstore and pay full price for it." Jess looked down at the boards of the porch, the smile changing to an expression half amused, half bashful.

"So he can brag to everyone that you're his nephew."

"Apparently."

"He's proud of you." Her tone gentled the sentiment for him since she knew it was an unfamiliar one.

"I guess."

"We need more pie," Rory got up. "Apple or pumpkin?"

"I'm good with either. You choose," Jess answered.

Rory brought back a whole apple pie and two forks. She pulled her chair up next to him, so they could share.

"Is it okay that we are eating this?" Jess asked with a laugh

"Sookie made ten pies, she won't notice. We always have leftovers anyway. Don't be surprised if she sends you home with a care package, by the way."

"I'll keep that in mind."

They sat in comfortable silence for a short while, eating pie.

"I'm... going back to Yale," Rory said quietly.

"Good. I'm glad. It's what you want, right? Going back?'

"Yeah."

"Good," Jess smiled, "that's good."

Rory felt her pulse speed up. Her cheeks got hot. She stared at her pie, mindlessly moving bits around. When she spoke, it came out as barely a whisper. "It was you. You're the reason I –I'm going back to Yale, thanks to you."

"What?" Jess asked breathlessly.

Rory looked up, caught his gaze and held it. She nodded slowly and felt her chin start to quiver. Very slowly, she reached for Jess' hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before snapping her arm back. "Thank you," she said simply.

"Rory, I…" Jess said thickly, but he trailed off, unsure how to verbalize what he was feeling.

Rory looked at him again, her blue eyes wide, sincere and full of emotion.

As a single tear fell from her eye, Jess reached out and caught it with his thumb, wiping it away gently. "You're welcome," he whispered with a crooked smile. The writer in him couldn't even properly describe it...everything it meant...them together…in that moment...suspended in time.

His eyes fell from hers and the two of them continued, by nibbles and forkfuls, to demolish the pie. Jess and Rory once again sat in comfortable silence.

After a while, Jess started to fidget. "Rory?" he said quietly. She looked at him, right into his eyes and simply waited for him to continue. "Something's going on with me and I have –If I tell you something, can you not ask a bunch of questions about it? I just need to –"

"Jess..." Rory said his name softly, to relieve his stammering and give him permission...for whatever he needed. "Of course."

Jess let out a massive sigh and sucked in a breath. "I kinda… I just found out that I –I have a twelve-year-old sister."

Rory was stunned but made sure to keep her face neutral. "Wow. That's… that's heavy. I mean, it's a lot."

"Yeah, it really is." The red spectacled twelve-year-old appeared in his mind's eye, sitting in front of all of that data, looking hopeful...and lost.

"Are you okay?" she asked carefully.

"Yeah… I mean –I think so. I have no idea," Jess sighed, feeling his lungs release, only then aware that he' stopped breathing.

"Okay, well, that's okay. When you figure it out, if you want to talk -I mean, I'm not trying to pry, but if you need to, I can -" Rory stammered. "I mean, you know, I did the whole helping the freaked out workaholic step-mom while she was in labor –"

"Jeez, I almost forgot about that," Jess smiled, glancing downward, glad she wasn't afraid to allude to the time they were together.

"So, even if it's not the same, I do have experience with surprise sisters," she shrugged.

"Surprise sisters?"

Both of them turned and looked up to see Liz walking up with two foil covered plates.

Jess shot Rory an imploring look that bordered on panic.

Rory licked her lips, stalling. "I –my little sister's...birthday is coming up, and I'm throwing a surprise party...SURPRISE! Sister's birthday!"

It was weak, really weak. Luckily, Liz was Liz and just laughed with a trace of a puzzled expression around her eyebrows. "Okay...that's very cool."

Both Jess and Rory watched her expectantly.

"Oh, right! Sookie sent me with extras. There's more if you want, but she's making everybody take at least one plate." She held out a heaping, tin covered paper plate to each of them.

"O...kay, sure."

Liz's tone cooled. "Oh, and if you were wondering," she shot at Jess, "this  _doesn't count_  as your monthly phone call. In case you thought you could pull that one-you can't."

Jess swallowed the anger that flashed up and plastered a ridiculously fake smile onto his face. "Uh-huh," he nodded quickly, fully aware that no question had been asked and the positive response was entirely ambiguous.

She darted a suspicious glance at him, but ultimately walked away, her son holding the manufactured smile until she'd left entirely...then let it fade.

"Nice save, Gretzky," Jess whispered, followed by a slow, grateful exhalation. "Thanks," he said quietly, glanced up into Rory's eyes and down again, biting his lips together.

Rory shrugged, a smile noodling at the corner of her mouth, her single dimple drawing Jess' gaze like a magnet. Her eyes fell self consciously, and she murmured, "What are friends for?"

A soft smile spread across Jess' face, and he nodded slowly. "Something like that."


	9. What's Owed

_Things get bad for all of us, almost continually, and what we do under the constant stress reveals who/what we are."_

_―_ **_Charles Bukowski_ **

_"_ _He's not demanding that you pay him back…" Doris pointed out._

_"_ _You were the one who said Luke put a roof over my head, food to eat and a job."_

_"_ _He also gave you stability and a little responsibility."_

_"_ _And?"_

_"_ _He provided shelter and food. Those are basic necessities; things any minor needs to be provided with. Luke was your guardian and he took on those responsibilities the minute your mother put you on the bus to go live with him."_

_"_ _I wasn't a minor the entire time I was there."_

_"_ _No, but you were still in high school; you were still his responsibility. And not everybody packs a kid off or starts demanding rent and utility payments the second they turn eighteen."_

_Jess was silent._

_Doris continued. "Do you think he's concerned about how much you cost him? Paying him back is important to you. I understand that. But do you think being reimbursed is the most important thing to Luke?"_

_Silence filled the room while Jess contemplated Doris' questions. "No," he finally said, looking at her. "But it's the least I can do -I mean I can't really pay him back for everything he did for me, I know. But I can pay back the money I cost him."_

_"_ _Luke was there for you. That's what family does for each other."_

_"_ _What a joke, coming from you," Jess muttered, as if to himself._

_"_ _What!" Doris fairly screeched._

_"_ _Nothing. You're right."_

_"_ _Then why did you-?"_

_"_ _Nothing, really. It was an inside joke...me, myself and I. Not about you. Not funny. Never mind. You're right. He was there for me. Like family should be."_

_Doris glared at him for a long moment, before continuing. "Do you have any thoughts on what you could do to thank him for being there for you-that don't involve money?"_

_"_ _Yeah, I do."_

_"_ _Then do that too."_

* * *

On Friday after Thanksgiving, Jess got a text message from Rory.

_Hi! You have my number now._

_Your number is now saved in my phone._

_Never thought I would see a day when you would have one._

_Me neither!_

* * *

After Thanksgiving dinner, when they'd gotten back to the diner, Luke followed Jess upstairs as he prepared to return to Philadelphia. Luke wanted to know exactly where this change in Jess' demeanor had come from –the change, which Lorelai pointed out, was "more than just a little maturity."

Not only had he continually refused to rise to his mother's bait all throughout dinner, but he'd graciously reminded Lorelai of her promise to give him a tour of  _The Dragonfly_  afterward-though it may have been a dodge to escape more of Liz's company and the barbs she kept jabbing in his direction, it was still doing so with skillful diplomacy. And when it was time to leave, he'd voluntarily hugged his mother, if not warmly at least cordially, and held out his hand to TJ and a couple of guys from the ren faire with a casual formality that made Lorelai stare open mouthed until an exchanged look with Luke made her swallow back the undisguised shock.

Jess began shoving his belongings back into the duffel bag which  _hadn't_  changed, as Luke sat heavily on the side of the bed, contemplating all that  _had._

"Jess," Luke began.

"Luke," Jess responded, without turning to face his uncle.

"Something happened. Something in you...has changed..." Luke trailed off, waiting.

There was no defensive retort, no sarcasm or scoffing. Its absence confirmed that something definitely  _had_  changed. After a long silence and a few false starts, Jess admitted to Luke what had led to the night he spent in jail and all of its aftermaths, including the court order to "talk to someone" and a brief summary of how that  _talking_  affected him. Most of it, Jess spoke to the floor, but the fact that he said it at all was proof in itself that the change produced had been a profound one.

Luke sat in stunned silence, processing what Jess had told him. Never in his life had Luke seen his nephew look so...young...so vulnerable. It was now, far more than then, that it scared Luke to remember the tough little kid who'd been Liz's shadow.

"But you're okay now?"

"I'm fine," Jess shrugged. "I mean I have a criminal record, which sucks, but I did everything the judge required. I just want to move on with my life."

Luke nodded without words. For only the second time since the day Jess had stepped off the bus in Stars Hollow at seventeen, Luke stood and hugged him. Jess' eyes dodged around the floorboards and he cleared his throat.

Before he left, Jess slipped a check onto a drawer where he knew Luke would find it...a check he'd written out almost a year previously, leaving only the date to be filled in. It was the money he'd promised Luke nearly two years ago. It was to repay him for the check he wrote to Kyle's parents', so they wouldn't press charges after Dean sucker punched Jess and they destroyed the house. It was also meant to contribute to the cost Luke put into Jess' car after Luke 'stole it' and Jess had to steal it back...the extra money Luke had slipped into that envelope to make sure Jess was getting by. And it was for a million other things that money could never repay.

* * *

Jess was mindlessly browsing a record store one day when he found something unexpected. He immediately pulled out his phone and texted Rory.

_Found a Vinyl record of The Distillers live in New York at CBGB's. I was at that show in '00._

_No way!_

_Yes, way._

_How did you get in?_

_I had my ways..._

_Uh-huh...okay, Dodger._

* * *

"So, did you get your schedule worked out for next semester?" Matt asked a few days after Thanksgiving when Jess had a rare night off from both work and class, and Chris made burgers for dinner.

"I haven't signed up for anything yet. Apparently, I'm only nineteen credits away from actually graduating...getting an AA instead of just a certificate," Jess shrugged. "Plus I won some scholarship through the school that would pay for the rest of my classes."

"That's good right?" Chris questioned.

"I guess."

"You won't have to work at Joe's," Matt added.

"Yeah, it's not quite  _that_  good. Joe's doesn't just pay for school." Jess rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, we get free fries too," Chris joked.

"So, what's the hold up then? Why haven't you signed up for the classes, so we can actually, you know...make a schedule?" Matt asked.

"None of the classes I still need are offered online. So I actually have to  _go_ to class. Plus it's all the crap I've been avoiding. I'll probably just take a few classes at a time. All of it's paid for, so it doesn't matter how long it takes."

"Well..." Matt said after he and Chris exchanged a look.

"What if we  _kind of_  gave you a raise?" Chris put forward.

"Not  _actually_  a raise, really," Matt hedged, "but more work, at a slightly higher rate of pay…with hours that are...uh...more flexible."

"How is that not a raise?" Jess quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Well… Ben and Drew left us a lot of work," Chris said of the other two members of Truncheon who recently left to start their own Publishing house in San Francisco. "We're kind of swamped...as you know." He gave Matt a smarmy smile. "Especially since  _someone_  decided it was a good idea to sign  _four new authors_  in NYC. One of which has decided to turn her book into a series. Not that she is the next JK Rowling, but still there is no end in sight."

"It was a great opportunity!"

"To commute constantly," Chris growled, then looked back to Jess. "Like I said, kind of swamped."

"Riiight…"

"And Ben and Drew did a lot more of the intensive editing," Matt added, "and that was...reflected in their salary...a bit. And you know, they were  _on_  salary."

"So our choices are either we hire someone new, or just give you the work," Chris explained.

"Put you on salary," Matt clarified once again.

"And neither of us wants to put forth the effort it requires to break in someone new," Chris grimaced.

"Besides that," Matt added, "we are contractually obligated to give you a portion of the profit Truncheon turned this year...which, for the first time...is actually bordering on decent."

"No more working nights and weekends at a greasy local diner," Chris said in a sing-songy voice.

"Wait," Jess squinted at them, hardly daring to put credence that such a thing was possible. "So, you're saying you want me to quit my job at the diner, so I can take on more here and not have to put off finishing school?"

"It's mostly so you can take on more here."

"You could get extra sleep," Matt smiled.

"Perhaps you could even have a social life?" Chris teased. "Maybe even get laid?"

"Nah...that would require him to talk to a girl."

"Good point. Okay then, extra sleep it is."

Jess sighed. This meant he could live comfortably for once, a luxury he wasn't used to. He had taken mostly English courses, working through a certification program that would ostensibly help him in his work at Truncheon. And, so far, he had been able to take primarily online classes or 7-week onsite courses. Until the most recent discussion with his guidance counselor, getting his AA hadn't even been on his radar; but he supposed if the chance was there, particularly to get it all finished and out of the way quickly, he should take it. "I'm gonna miss Joe's free food," Jess finally said.

"So will we!" Matt said. "Here, you can start on these," Matt handed him a small stack of manuscripts.

"Good, and now that that's taken care of... tell us who Anna Nardini is and why she wanted to talk to you," Chris asked.

* * *

As November turned to December, Jess prepared for finals and put in notice to his boss at the diner. All the while, his texting with Rory became more frequent.

Monday, it was Eleanor Roosevelt:

 _Are you sure it's wise to align yourself with an org E. Roosevelt resigned from in protest?_ Jess texted.

 _Wait...what?_ Rory seemed stumped.

_Almost History - Roger Bruns, p.128, 129. Eleanor._

_I know who E. Roosevelt is! What organization?_

_Read it and weep._

Tuesday, the mystery continued:

_Seriously, Jess. What organization are you talking about?_

_Look it up._

_Physically impossible at the moment. Tell me...please..._

_Fine-DAR_

_What was she protesting?_

_Discrimination_

Wednesday:

_...Need to research some bylaws now. Frightening!_

_Rory, I was mostly teasing. Meant it as a book rec._

_Oh...Almost History?_

_Yup._

_Huh._

_Can loan it to you when I'm done, or you can look it up._

_I'll take the annotated version._

_Noted._

_Punny, punny man._

Saturday:

_Just wanted to say hi. Haven't heard from you in awhile._

_Sorry, been busy…finals..._

_Finals?_

_It hasn't been that long since you had one._

Rory stared at his message and dialed the number.

"Jess?"

"What?"

"Finals?" she questioned again.

"Yep."

"Are you in school?" she asked with a hint of excitement.

"That does explain the textbook I'm staring at."

"Jess."

"Yes, I'm in school."

"That's…that's incredible."

"Don't get too excited, it's just a community college."

"But it's higher education." She gripped the phone with an eagerness she knew he'd pretend to hate.

"Yeah, it is." Despite the monotone, she could hear the hint of a reluctant smile in his voice.

"Good…good," Rory choked back tears. "Good for you."

"It's for work…mostly," he said nonchalantly.

"That's it?"

"For now," he shrugged.

"For now is good though…" she insisted, trying to put a lid on her emotions. "I'll let you get back to that studying thing."

"Thanks."

"Are you coming back to Stars Hollow for Christmas?" she asked, changing the subject, and momentarily forgetting that she was  _letting him get back to studying_.

"Maybe. I have a lot of work right now."

_Right. I'm being Lorelai. Stop being five years old. Stop interrupting._

"Well, I hope you can make it. The Inn is beautiful at Christmas time," she said before hanging up.

* * *

The week before Christmas, Jess got a message from Ed:

_Jess,_

_I got your feedback. It's very helpful, thank you. I'm moving and will be without the Internet in my home until the latter half of February (long story, I won't bore you with the details). I am also unable to arrange attendant care to travel to Philadelphia. I apologize for the inconvenience. Is there another way to discuss business matters? Otherwise, we will be delayed or I may have to pull my manuscript._

_-Ed_

"We can't lose him," Matt started, in a frenzy.

"Could we arrange care for him while he's here? The guy has Cerebral Palsy," Chris said, "It's not like he's dying."

"We could if we could afford it," Matt was shaking his head.

"Well I'm almost finished with the first edit," Jess interjected.

"Then instead of Ed coming to us, Jess can simply go to Ed."

* * *

A few days before Christmas, in celebration of being done with his classes and only having one job that paid him decently enough that he didn't need another, Jess slept in until noon. His cell phone rang eventually, waking him up.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hello, Jess?" came a voice he didn't recognize."This is April."

"Oh," he sat straight up in his bed wide-awake. "Hi."

"I…I was wonder…wondering," she stammered. "If you maybe could or would come over for dinner…to my house…. maybe sometime over the holidays. I mean, I know it's kinda far; and I don't know if you're going to California or someplace else to spend Christmas with family...and it doesn't have to be Christmas. I'm not exactly big on Christmas, so if you are, that could actually be kind of a bummer...so it could be anytime...during school vacation would be good, but it wouldn't have to be, you know,  _Christmas_ -Christmas, just maybe sort of-"

"Oh, uh, sure," he interrupted her ramble. "I can't until after the holiday, though," Jess paused. "And I have family in Connecticut...Stars Hollow, to be exact."

"You do?" she said, sounding surprised.

"My mom grew up there, and recently she bought a house."

"Wow, that's...weird actually, that your mom's so close to here."

"Uh…yeah. Does your mom know about this?" Uneasiness crept into Jess' tone, remembering Anna's concern, despite her graciousness.

"Yeah, she said it was okay."

"Umm, okay…then I will see you on the twenty-sixth if that works…for dinner."

"It's perfect,"

* * *

_Mom says you're coming for Christmas and staying._

_Yep...long story…I'm staying until classes start in mid-January._

_Well, drive safe._

_Yeah. See you in a few days…_

_Tell your mother!_

_Why? It's way more fun to drive her crazy…_

_Jess…_

_Relax. It's already done._

* * *

"Luke, I need a new order pad!"

"In the drawer!" Luke called from the kitchen.

"The drawer is empty. They need to be restocked from upstairs."

"In a minute! I've got hot oil!" Luke growled.

"Well, as soon as you don't have hot oil, I need you to hand me one. I'm juggling five plates right now, and have two parties of five who just came in the door. If I don't get a fresh order pad, I'm going to have to start taking orders on napkins," Lane said in a tone of someone facing chaos and panic during a mid-afternoon rush.

"I'm going, I'm going," Luke said, setting down the frying rack, wiping his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder, and running upstairs. He reached into the desk and pulled out a stack of fresh order pads.

"Here," he said handing one to Lane.

"You dropped this," Lane said to Luke breathlessly, bending to pick up a slip of paper that had fluttered to the floor in the exchange.

Luke took one look at what Lane handed him, and froze. His brows creased in puzzlement for the space of a second. Carefully legible letters written on the blank space after the word For: "what's owed." Luke's eyes burned and he spoke horsey, "I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder.

"You owe me nothing," Luke spoke into the phone.

"Good, you found it. And I  _do_  owe you. Take it. If you rip it up, I'm just gonna send another."

"You're very stubborn." Luke sighed. "And it's too much."

"Yes, I am very stubborn. It's hereditary...on my mother's side. So just cash the check."

"If you insist," Luke paused for a minute. "Jess, I'm very proud of you …your book, going back to school, and everything you have done to pick yourself back up after everything-even the way you handled yourself with the news about April and her mother."

"Thanks, but Luke you don't have to..."

"I'm on your side Jess," Luke interrupted, "no matter what. I want you to know that."

"Even when you shouldn't be."  

"Well," Luke shrugged, "that's what family does, right?"

He heard Jess laugh, a bit ruefully. "I've heard something like that before."

"No, I mean it. I wish I knew about everything you were going through when it was happening. I figured something was going on, I just didn't realize it was so serious."

"It just…it wasn't my finest hour."

"No, it probably wasn't; but everyone makes mistakes and does stupid stuff," Luke sighed. "I once got to spend a few hours in a cell and had to go to a couple of anger management classes for beating up a car... That wasn't  _my_  finest hour, but it didn't exactly wreck my life."

"You beat up a-you beat up a car?" Jess questioned.

"Of a cheating scumbag."

"Ah."

"It was a mistake, what you did. You live, you learn. That's just how it works." Luke paused for a beat. "And, for what it's worth, it looks like you've learned a lot… and learned it well."

"Yeah, I guess," Jess conceded with something of his usual bashfulness at accepting praise, allowing it only momentarily... "I'll see you in a few days, Uncle Luke."

"Take care, Jess."

As he hung the phone back on its receiver, Luke stared unseeing at the spot by his nephew's bed where they'd stood just after Thanksgiving...in that moment, the first time he'd seen Jess completely unguarded...the way he should have been able to be from childhood on. When Jess got off the bus at seventeen, he was still a scared kid, Liz's tough little shadow… but at twenty-one, he'd gone through such a transformation. It filled Luke with the kind of pride and contentment that is ordinarily reserved for a father in the moment he realizes his son has grown into a man.


	10. Twigs and Limbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are coffee to the soul

_"_ _I have never let my schooling interfere with my education."_

_―_ _**Mark Twain** _

_"_ _Why do you play into the stereotype? You are NOT stupid. You are not SHIFTLESS. There is no_ reason _you should have_ become _a high school dropout._

_"…_ _If the shoe fits."_

_"It_ does not," _Doris bit out sharply._  " _Rory saw you as an intellectual_ equal _," she said, pursing her lips together._

_Jess' head tilted to one side with an almost audible thud. "She was the only..."_

_"Really? Just Rory? From everything you've said, Luke had a great deal confidence in you as well."_

_Jess shrugged._

_"I guess." He said it quietly, eyes fell to the floor._

_"_ _Jess,_ you know  _you're not dumb. So why is it that Rory went on to Yale and you dropped out?"_

_"Because her world was rainbows and butterflies," Jess said, defensively._

_Doris shook her head and glared at him over her tiny glasses, "Jess?"_

_He closed his eyes for a minute; she wanted a better answer and she was going to hold him to it. He and looked at his hands while he spoke, "I didn't drop out," Jess said quietly._

_Doris nodded and sat back as Jess continued._

_"I was dumb enough to skip the equivalent of almost a quarter of the school year...dumb enough to throw away all the school's warning slips without even reading them."_

_"That's not a lack of intelligence, just standard issue adolescent arrogance."_

_"_ _I thought…I thought I had things under control," he mumbled. "I… I'd missed...a bunch of days every year I was in school. I thought I was just a little behind…"_

_"_ _I understand that a lot of this isn't simple," Doris cut in when his voice cracked and he seemed to lose his words. She paused to make sure he was listening to her. "But_ none _of those circumstances define you. You don't have to sit and stew in your past failures. Nor do you fit into any cookie-cutter stereotype."_

* * *

On Christmas Eve, Jess worked until noon at Truncheon and then got stuck, stopped in the traffic behind an overturned big-rig that had crushed a beamer, causing a massive pile-up. Life Flight had to come to the scene. It was a complete mess...took hours. As a result, he didn't get into Stars Hollow until well after the Christmas party at The Dragonfly ended.

He spent part of Christmas morning with Liz and TJ before they left for Vermont to spend the rest of the holiday with TJ's family, and much to Jess' delight, they would be staying in Vermont to help TJ's brother on some kind of a job. When Jess told Liz, she explained exactly what they were doing, but Jess barely listened.

Besides his work at Truncheon, Jess signed up for the winter semester and was taking a Philosophy class. He still had no idea if he was going to enroll in all the courses he needed to graduate the following semester or just take a few classes at a time until he was done. He was in no particular rush, but just before the New Year holiday he received an email from his advisor with the attached application for graduation, " _to make sure he had it"_.

"Passive aggressive much?" Jess thought when he saw the email.

After the holiday, Jess was at the diner, helping out and anxiously waiting for his final grades to be posted online. Every twenty minutes he would go upstairs and check his email.

"What're you doing?" Luke finally asked him when he came downstairs.

"Nothing," Jess answered wiping down the counter.

"Uh-huh," Luke said.

The next time he went upstairs, Luke followed him. "Jess you can't just come up here in the middle of serving the customers."

"Like you just did?" He said it absently as if he hardly noticed his own sarcasm.

Luke dropped him a look that he didn't see, as he scanned the computer monitor.

"I'm waiting on my final grades to be posted."

"Oh," Luke said. "Well, continue."

Jess opened his email to find what he had been waiting for. He'd already completed one class in October, which he had an A in. For his remaining three courses, he could barely contain his smile as he saw his grades.

"I'm living in the  _Twilight Zone_ ," Jess mumbled, still staring at the screen. He could feel Luke hovering over his shoulder.

"W _ow_ ," Luke said, in genuine shock. "You sure they didn't mix up a couple of student IDs or something?"

Jess rolled his eyes.

"No, seriously, Jess-this is  _great!_ "

"It's not that big a deal," Jess said closing his laptop and heading downstairs.

"Um...for anybody swimming in the Danes gene pool... _it is_.

* * *

Jess sat in his car, trying to talk himself out of going into the Nardini house. He contemplated staying in his car... _in_  that spot, for the foreseeable future... or cutting a getaway, blowing off the dinner and blocking their phone number...possibly changing his name. He just couldn't do it. In the end, he still had too many questions about this girl who shared half of his genetic makeup...and the woman who'd chosen not to tell Jimmy Mariano that this child existed.

"Go in and stop being a spaz," Jess mumbled to himself before he knocked on the door.

"Mom, he's here," Jess heard April's muffled voice through the door.

"Well, then answer the door," Anna said.

"Hi," April said, too loudly, opening the door.

"Hi," Jess said stiffly, trying not to look at his feet.

"Invite him in, take the dessert box from his hand," Anna suggested, drying her hands in the kitchen doorway.

"Oh, right, come in," April stepped out of the way so Jess could walk in the house.

"Home-made-technically diner-made, by...my uncle who lives-" Jess cut himself off, realizing he was over-complicating pie.  _Deep breath_. "Here." He held it out and April reached for it, fumbled and saved with a slightly terrified smile.

"The kitchen's...this way," April said in a voice that was somehow stilted and over-bright at the same time.

Until that moment, he hadn't noticed she had a slight lisp.  _Hasn't faded all the way yet. Freaky._

"I hope you like spaghetti and meatballs," Anna said to Jess, who looked up, shaken from a slight daze. Smiling a tiny, almost placid smile, she held out cutlery and napkins to April. "Set the table sweetie."

"You have pie." Despite this being a statement of the obvious, April said the words as if he might have been in some doubt on the subject.

Jess nodded, trying not to raise his eyebrows, lest it should seem like he was mocking her.

"I can take that now." She stuffed the napkins and silverware awkwardly under one arm to take the pie pan from him. In doing so, the spoons, knives, and forks clattered to the floor, and in a wild attempt to rescue them, Jess watched the peril of the pie, and all three of them breathed a sigh of relief when it  _didn't_ follow the rest onto the floor. " _Sorry!_ I'll, um…I'll..."

Anna cut in, "Why don't you hand me the pie and you can wash up the silverware and then go ahead and set places for the three of us?"

April blushed and nodded over the exchange of the pie and stopped stammering.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Jess asked.

"Can you toss a salad?" Anna asked over her shoulder as she extracted a loaf of French bread from the oven.

"I can."

She indicated the refrigerator with her eyes. "Bottom two drawers...you know, crispers. Don't be shy. Anything that looks salad-able. Veggies, cheeses, olives, nuts. Knock yourself out or keep it simple. We'll eat anything that's in there. And this way I don't have to guess what you like on a salad."

Jess smiled a touch at the last part, opening the fridge door and trying not to drop anything or exhibit unwarranted curiosity...while rooting around a near stranger's belongings while watching.

"Sorry about her, she's nervous-she gets excited when she's nervous," Anna said, lowering her voice when April stepped out of the room for a moment. "She hasn't been able to talk about anything else for days."

"Nervous…huh," Jess said coolly raising an eyebrow, tossing the salad. "Couldn't tell."

Anna hid a smile as she pulled the bread from the oven. There was no question in her mind, this was Jimmy Mariano's son...the inflections, the lilting sarcasm, and subtlety of facial expression. "We had a really long talk about her father," Anna started slowly, "I think she wants to get to know you before she asks about her dad."

Jess nodded rhythmically.

"You owe us nothing."

These words made his head spring up.

"I just want you to know that you're not obligated to any of this if you don't want to do it. The getting to know us or getting her in touch with your dad. It's great, and I appreciate it, but it's not something you're legally or morally obliged to do. If you don't want to keep in touch with us after this, that's okay."

Jess gave her a long look. "Fair... but I'm here now."

"All set," April exclaimed walking into the kitchen.

"Then let's eat," Anna said.

During dinner, April hung on his every word, questioning him about his book, which she'd read, his writing process-apparently, she wrote too. A novel. She'd written a short novel. At twelve.  _No, this isn't my sister. Of course not._  She asked about Truncheon, how they chose manuscripts to publish and the whole editing process. In fact, for several minutes he wondered if this might be some elaborate plan to get her novel beyond the slush pile. But, she wanted to know everything. She managed to get him talking...about school...which classes he was taking, which books he was reading...his job at Joe's-up until two weeks ago-who the most intriguing customers were, and what made them good potential book characters. It was kind of amazing how much they had to talk about, actually. April seemed very mature for her age...intelligent and well adjusted. Not that Jess exactly knew what well adjusted looked like, but he assumed that April came pretty close.

Anna stayed quiet and let them talk, slipping out part-way through dessert to do some scrapbooking in the living room, leaving them space to keep getting better acquainted. By the end of the night, April told Jess about all her science projects, gushed about all her friends and even invited him to go bowling.

Before he left, Anna walked Jess out to his car, "You don't have to go bowling if you don't want to," she said before he got into his car."I think she really likes you; and she's picky, so that's saying something."

"I might need an excuse to get out of Stars Hollow for a night," Jess shrugged, a tiny smile niggling at one corner of his mouth.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"Making this easier for her."

* * *

The Stars Hollow gazebo was perhaps an odd place to contemplate this strange new edition to his family if such a thing could be said to be a commodity which Jess Mariano possessed. It never was before. Families were something other people had. They would talk about roots and branches and Jess would basically liken his own experience to a hacked off twig. Evidently, something had once been attached somewhere...to something larger...to the whole network of humanity and they're messed up gene pools; but all of that had always been at a remove. They were the unknowns and the unknowables, and the don't-really-cares. It was entirely abstract and bizarre that there was another person in the world, whose entire existence was a blank to him until now, but who was undeniably attached to him in some way...sprung from the same branch, so to speak...and was still connected.

Smoke curled upward into the night sky from where he sat swallowed up in shadows, letting these thoughts swirl in his mind. When he was down by a cigarette and a half and his fingers were steadier, Jess unfolded himself from the bench and beam, stood and took a few steps, stubbed out his cigarette on the sidewalk in front of Doose's, and crossed over to the diner.

"There he is," Lorelai said when Jess walked in. She and Rory were sitting at the counter, finishing their dinner.

"Hi?" he said, confused, his eyes still adjusting to the light.

"I heard about your grades," Lorelai greeted him.

Jess opened his mouth, but Luke cut him off. "And before you say anything,  _it is_ a big deal. When Lorelai overheard me telling Liz…"

"You told my  _mother?_ " Jess exclaimed, sitting down with a thud.

"Yes, I did," Luke said, matter-of-factly. "Because  _good news should be shared with the people that you care about_." Luke quoted.

" _Un_ believable," Jess said shaking his head. "I'm never telling you anything ever again."

Lorelai's phone rang.

When she picked it up, Luke glared. " _Out!_ "

Lorelai rolled her eyes as she stood up. "Marrying you is getting me nowhere," she stage whispered, covering the mouthpiece...or at least where it seemed as if the mouthpiece ought to be.

When the door shut behind her, Luke went back to work in the kitchen, leaving Rory and Jess by themselves at the counter.

"So, finals must have been good," Rory said consciously masking a smile, not very effectively.

"Something like that," Jess shrugged. "It's really not a big deal."

Lorelai walked back into the diner at a frenetic pace, grabbing her purse. "I have to go to the Inn, long story; it involves Michel, a pair of pliers, and a kid with a loose tooth."

"And a  _lawsuit_ ," Jess observed wryly.

"Possibly not if I talk  _really fast."_

After Lorelai left and the look of amusement started to fade from Jess' features, Rory resumed the previous line of conversation. "I think it's a bigger deal than you think… This is  _what_? Your first or maybe second semester of college and you're getting straight A's. I knew it, Jess, I knew you could…"

"It's my third semester," Jess corrected. "I started last spring."

"Wow. Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"It's a  _thrill_  isn't? Getting those kinds of grades. I've missed it." Her grin was proud, but he could see the tinge of regret in her eyes. Someplace he was now, that she wished she could be...right in this present moment.

"I'm not sure about a thrill...But it doesn't suck."

She smiled at the counter, enjoying the fact that no matter what kind of schooling he might pursue, he was still undeniably Jess. "Fries?" she asked offering him the plate in front of her.

"I just ate," he shook his head.

"Yeah, Luke said you were out for dinner." Her eyebrows raised subtly but she didn't outright ask.

"I, uh...had dinner with April and her mom," he said quietly.

"April is your…"

"Sister," Jess finished.

"How…?" Her forehead crinkled in the middle.

"Jimmy."

"Oh, right" Rory swallowed, focused on the food in front of her.

"I should go. I have a long day tomorrow," he said after a long pause.

"Jess," Rory stopped him just before he disappeared behind the curtain as if she could sense that something was weighing on him, "If something is happening with you, and telling me about it would help you somehow, or make it easier... I want you to tell me, okay?"

"Thanks." He paused, letting it hang in the air for a moment between them… "Same goes for you," he added; and his gaze caught briefly at hers before casting downward as he turned to go upstairs.

* * *

 


	11. Coke-Addled hop frog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to consult with a professional seamstress for this chapter...also another part of this chapter was inspired by an essay written by Chuck Wendig on his blog. No copyright violations...I'm having fun with this thing and making no money at all. Reviews are coffee to the soul.

_"_ _So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be."_

_―_ _**Stephen Chbosky** _ _,_ _**The Perks of Being a Wallflower** _

_"_ _So, according to her, they were just friends?"_

_"_ _According to her. Yes. According to her, according to him, according to everyone else in that town who apparently didn't have a brain in their head or eyes to see what was right in front of their face. She was obviously into him. But more than that, she settled into his place like she owned it; and her attitude from the moment I first heard her speak was that of somebody who was going to be a part of my life whether I liked it or not...so, I'd just better get used to it. I mean, the 'here, I'll introduce you to my daughter,' come over to my house for dinner-never mind that you haven't even been in town_ a day _or that you haven't seen your uncle in_ years _, so it might be a good idea too, you know, settle in, get reacquainted. No. You need to come to my turf so that I can establish my place in your life and make sure you know that I and your uncle come as a set. I'm the queen here. And the sooner you get that through your head, the better."_

_"_ _Do you think it might be at all possible that you were projecting past experience onto this woman?"_

_"_ _You think?"_

_"_ _Could you have been misinterpreting her words, based on the men your mother brought home?"_

_"_ _Interpreting? Yes. Misinterpreting? Maybe."_

_"_ _Explain."_

_"_ _She was pulling this 'you don't realize how good you've got it' crap. Seriously. She was sticky sweet 'if you give this a chance, Luke's the greatest guy in the world...so sweet and wonderful and…' I mean, just completely make-me-want-to-puke, starry-eyed, manipulative-"_

_"_ _So, are you saying Luke_ isn't _all those things?"_

_"_ _It wasn't the words. She was sucking up to me. For no reason, whatsoever."_

_"_ _Is it possible she thought you needed a friend?"_

_"_ _She wasn't trying to be my friend. She was trying to play me."_

_"_ _It isn't possible that she was_ genuinely  _trying to help you."_

_"_ _I didn't want her help...I didn't_ need _her help."_

_Doris pursed her lips together waiting for him to continue._

_"_ _Did she think I was_ really  _that stupid? Like I hadn't seen this entire performance before? Like every guy my mother dated hadn't tried in some form or fashion to buddy up to me and pretend to understand me and act like he had my best interests at heart, just so he could get in my mom's pants? So that she would be swept off her feet by this guy who would be great to her kid? Didn't try to convince me that everything was gonna come up sunshine and roses so that they could keep me quiet and cooperative until they could get me out of the way?"_

_"_ _Do you think that's what she was doing?"_

_"_ _Why would she be doing it for any other reason?"_

_"_ _Is it really that hard for you to believe that a person could do something kind for another someone else, just because they want to?"_

_"_ _Why?" Jess stared at Doris. "Random teenager of the opposite sex shows up in your town...don't know them from Adam...don't know anything about them, except that they potentially are trouble-and you decide that you want to be their new best friend and introduce them to your angelic, impressionable daughter. Yeah, that's normal."_

_"_ _Jess, if you saw a kid who was clearly in trouble, what would you do?"_

_He sat silent for several seconds. "I don't know."_

_"_ _Would you help them if you could? Would you try to prevent them from having to go through the things that you did?"_

_All Jess could do was nod._

_"_ _In many ways, you have far too low an opinion of yourself. But, even you would do whatever you reasonably could to help...a random teenager that really needed somebody."_

_"_ _Okay, I get your point."_

_"_ _You say that this woman was a single, teenage mother. To the best of your knowledge, she came into this tiny, old fashioned, narrow-minded, judgmental town, as a single teenage mother in the 80's. And if she was coming there as a teenage mother, it sounds like she knew what it was like to have a blow up with a parent and wind up having to leave home because of it. She probably knew what it was like to be an outcast. Is it totally impossible that she saw through the tough exterior you wear so well, and all the sarcasm that you hide behind, and recognized a kid who life had dealt some pretty hard punches? ...a kid who maybe needed a helping hand to get off the ground, even if he'd be damned if he'd ever admitted it? Is it impossible that when she looked at you...she saw herself and thought she probably understood better than most_ how _to help you, and was just trying to be a decent person?"_

_Jess stared at a spot on the floor where his eyes usually rested whenever he was avoiding Doris' piercing gaze and shook his head._

_"_ _Not impossible," he swallowed._

* * *

Jess spent the next few days either working with Ed or at the diner with Luke. He didn't hear from Anna or April. Nor did he did he see Rory again until the Monday after the New Year. Luke mentioned that she and Lorelai were off celebrating Rory's twenty-first birthday _,_ "the way it always should have been celebrated."

Jess couldn't help but remember the way the two of them had looked at each other, as he saw them through the elder Gilmores' glass doors and wonder how it was supposed to have looked. "Where'd they go?"

"Atlantic City."

"Hm," Jess nodded, his mouth full of the late breakfast he was stopping to eat after the rush subsided.

"Blackjack, 21 guys…"

Jess looked up with a quizzical expression. "Okay, I don't...think I want to know." At that moment, Jess' cell phone buzzed, rattling the silverware on the counter.

"Out," Luke demanded.

"Clearly being your nephew gets me nowhere," Jess smirked, hauling himself off the barstool without even bothering to roll his eyes in the process.

"Hey," Matt said when Jess was out of the diner and answered the call properly.

"We need you in Springfield, Massachusetts," Chris added, calling out with an echoing that indicated they were conversing by means of a speakerphone.

"A new author contacted us. Remember Ellen Taylor?"

"Um...maybe," Jess said.

"Ben brought her in initially. We tried to sign her before, but Gergenheim got to her first."

"Okay, yeah." Jess vaguely remembered that happening somewhere around the time he first started as a clerk.

"Well, evidently they are in breach of contract and now she's scouting around for a new publishing house. We need to go to her because we don't want her to sign with anyone else."

"When's the meeting?" Jess asked with a fake confidence he perfected whenever Matt and Chris gave him a new task.

"Next Thursday at one."

"Why are we waiting over a week?"

"She's out of the country."

"Okay, I'll be there."

"I'll send you the address and I overnighted a copy of the manuscript so you can familiarize yourself with her work," Chris said. "On Saturday, Matt will walk you through the negotiating process. We might end up in a bidding war; so we've gotta make sure you're prepared."

"You're meeting with her at her office," Matt paused. "And Jess, look sharp-you're representing a publishing house that's small but mighty-dress for the part."

"Small but mighty?"

Chris jumped in. "Just wear your suit. Get a new shirt… Haircut. And...don't shave."

"Got it."

* * *

The day Lorelai and Rory got back to town, Jess walked into the diner to find Lorelai and Sookie at a table with bridal magazines spread out across two tables.

"No, Luke. I'm not "Sookie." I'm "Sookie B-F-O-T-B," Jess overheard Sookie as he walked into the diner.

"What?"

"Best Friend Of The Bride. It is my responsibility to help plan this event. To talk through all the details, to taste the cake and pick the invitations, and to keep you, the fiancé of the bride, from having to pretend to be interested in things that he has no interest in."

"Jess, your uncle is being impossible. He wants us to plan our wedding at the counter," Lorelai said, greeting Jess as soon as she saw him.

"Uh-huh," Jess responded, amused and with a raised eyebrow.

"I need the table," Luke defended.

"You should relax. Lorelai might decide she wants a beach wedding and you could end up in shorts," Jess said with a smirk to his uncle.

"See, even Jess sees the humor in that," Lorelai mumbled, nudging Sookie.

"Okay, I give up," Luke said, walking backward slowly, arms up in surrender.

"Thanks, Jess!" Lorelai said.

"Anytime," Jess said pausing for a beat. "Hey, uh, is your offer still good?"

"What offer?" Lorelai asked taking a sip of her coffee.

"To...um...to alter my suit. I have this meeting next week…" He picked at the cuffs of his sleeves, nervously avoiding eye contact while attempting to sound nonchalant.

"It's still good." Lorelai nodded briskly. "Can you come over tomorrow evening so I can take measurements?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Then, I'll...see you tomorrow."

* * *

The next evening, Jess and Lorelai were in her kitchen. Lorelai had various pin cushions, spools of thread, scissors, thimbles and the like spread out across the kitchen table, along with what was left of take-out from Luke's.

"Put your shoes on and stand on the chair," Lorelai motioned, speaking around the sewing pin in her mouth. "And you can always change the porch light before you leave."

"Okay...um. Sure," Jess agreed, not questioning the rate of exchange. He climbed onto the seat of the chair cautiously, so he wouldn't catch on the loose hem and perform some interesting and disastrous acrobatic move and wind up flat on his back on Lorelai Gilmore's kitchen floor.

Lorelai maneuvered around him, looking keenly at said hem, now with a mouthful of pins.

"So June third? That's quick," Jess commented when he could see her mouth was no longer so occupied.

"Yep, as soon as I had the dress, it just all came together." Lorelai paused for a minute. "It's at this rose covered church…"

Jess listened only halfway as she talked in her usual caffeine induced rapid-fire ramble. From the chair, Jess had a perfect view into Rory's room. It hadn't changed much since high school. His eye caught a blue vest hanging over her chair. He used to have one just like it, except his was orange.

"...and the reception is at the separate hall with floor to ceiling windows and doors that open out… sorry, I'm rambling..." Lorelai stopped as she swore she saw Jess' eyes glazed over the way Luke's had until she mentioned they would be getting married in less than five months

"No, no you're not," he lied, pulling his eyes quickly from Rory's room, and his thoughts back from the implications of what they'd landed upon.

Lorelai paused for a beat, "Luke...uh...he told me a little bit about your job..." she changed the subject to get him talking, "So what's this meeting you have?"

"It's um...it's with an author. She...signed with another publishing company, but I guess they're currently in breach of contract, and she's looking for someone else to publish her book."

"So...you actually work in publishing itself? Luke talked about a bookstore. I...maybe I didn't get a clear idea of the scope of your work."

"Well, it is a bookstore. It's… I'm working at the publishing house that published my short novel. I used to be a sales clerk, but recently I've taken on more of uh...basically, an assistant editor position."

"Impressive. So that's why you're meeting with authors and trying to get them to sign with the publishing house."

"It's still very much an indie house...a small one."

"Nothing wrong with starting small."

"Anyway," Jess shrugged, glancing down to see how the pinning was going, "Matt and Chris are sending me to meet with this woman, and they...wanted me in a suit."

"Who are Matt and Chris? Your bosses I assume?" Lorelai asked.

"And roommates," Jess added. "They're good guys. Chris is an accomplished poet and painter and Matt has a sixth sense for new artists in any medium. They're both phenomenal editors; they want to give new writers a voice."

"You can get down now," Lorelai smiled.

Jess carefully stepped down from the chair and Lorelai indicated that he could sit.

Lorelai sat down in the chair opposite, her hands busy, attaching the thread she'd matched to his suit to one of the sewing machine's bobbins. She paused, looking up. "Sounds like you found some decent friends."

"I have."

"And you found something you're good at."

"I just read and correct grammar all day... but sure."

"But it's more than that," Lorelai looked up at him knowingly.

"Yeah, it is," he admitted, a smile edging its way, just barely, at the corner of his mouth. "I like seeing something go from an idea or a concept to something that's tangible. This guy I'm working with now is really talented. His writing is way more than just a 'fresh voice' or 'relevant social commentary.'"

A slow, sweet smile spread across Lorelai's face. "Are you talking like, bestseller lists?"

"I doubt it. Success in publishing is not necessarily the best-seller list. Matt says success is a 'bull's-eye duct-taped to the back of a coke-addled hop-frog.'"

Lorelai laughed. "I'll take your word for it. But just getting published is an accomplishment."

"It's stressful, actually."

"But the reason you know that kind of stress is that  _you've been published_. It's still an accomplishment; you're stressed because it matters to you."

"Yeah, that's true." They were silent while Lorelai worked. "It's like playing in a sandbox for a living..." Jess finally said.

"And it's the best thing to ever happen to you," she finished for him, eyes beaming in a way that mystified him.

Jess looked down at Lorelai, "I never thought of publishing as a career."

"I'll never forget the first time Mia let me plan an event at the Independence Inn. It was a wedding; the couples were high-school sweethearts and cancer survivors. She just had her last chemo treatment, and he had been cancer free for a year. I'd never seen two people more in love. The wedding only had about twenty guests, but I wanted  _every detail to be perfect_  for their day. They earned it. I made sure it  _was_  perfect. It felt a little like playing in a sandbox then, but I was in charge of the sandbox. Not too long after that, Sookie and I had the idea to open our own inn someday-"

"Oh, hi," Rory said interrupting the exchange. Lorelai and Jess were so caught up in their conversation, they hadn't heard Rory come in the house, nor did they know how long she'd been standing there.

"Hey, sweets," Lorelai said to Rory.

"Hi," Jess greeted her, not sure why it was still awkward to run into her...in her own house, no less.

"Your pants are all pinned," Lorelai said. "I can sew them tonight, but I'll have to have you come back to pin the jacket, and finishing it may take a few days. When is your meeting exactly?"

"Next Thursday, one o'clock."

"Okay...yeah, that gives me enough time. If you could come by...maybe Saturday, I can fit the jacket to you, do the sewing, and have you come back and try it on one more time Tuesday, just in case I have to do any last minute touch-ups. If I've made any major goofs, I may have to pull an all-nighter; but I just won't make any major goofs. Will that work for you?" She'd said most of this in one breath, and Jess had to think for a moment.

"Saturday and Tuesday…" he checked.

"Saturday and Tuesday," Lorelai confirmed.

"Yeah, that's...fine," Jess blinked. "Thank you for doing this."

"Meh," Lorelai waved it off with one hand as if she routinely took in major alterations for everyone in town. For all he knew, maybe she did.

"I should go change," he said, glancing at Rory as he picked up his other clothes from the countertop and stepped past her.

"So, should we get snacks and a movie?" Lorelai asked when Jess was out of earshot. "Luke has an early delivery, so he'll probably just come home and go to bed."

"I promised Lane I would come over. I guess Zach barged into Mrs. Kim's house, saying she had some CD of his… I don't know. It was a thing. And it was bad. And she's pretty upset."

"So you're doing the supportive friend thing?"

"Just returning the favor," Rory said with her  _earnest_  face on.

"So...booze?" Lorelai checked.

"We were thinking of coming back here to try and recreate some of Patty's Founders' Day punch."

"Many have tried, all have failed or gotten alcohol poisoning," Lorelai responded casually.

"Well, we'll come close."

"To failing, or getting alcohol poisoning?" Her voice didn't sound nearly as alarmed as the question warranted, but it wasn't  _quite_  as  _laissez faire._

" _No_ , to recreating it."

"Careful with that stuff," Lorelai laughed. "Remember the last time? And over the same boy."

"Don't remind me," Rory shuddered.

Jess opened the bathroom door, having finished changing and started back toward the kitchen, but stopped short at the conversation he wasn't sure he was supposed to be overhearing.

"A girl can wallow only so much," Rory shrugged.

"Still no word from him?"

"No, and I don't want any either," Rory said with a heavy sigh. "He didn't even have the courtesy to tell me."

"I know, hon."

"Thanks again Lorelai, I should go," Jess said, gathering his stuff, trying to get out of the house as quickly as possible. "I'll, uh, see you around," he added, acknowledging Rory.

"Wait, I need these," Lorelai grabbed the pants before Jess let himself out. "Come back Saturday night."

He tipped a nod on his way out the door.

_Community Service AND trouble with the blonde dick at Yale? Great...that's just lovely,_  Jess thought to himself as he left the house, nerves steadier and heart somehow both heavier and lighter than when he arrived.


	12. The Cliff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are coffee to the soul

_"_ _What a weary time those years were - to have the desire and the need to live but not the ability."_

_―_ _**Charles Bukowski** _ _,_ _**Ham on Rye** _

_The cell door clanged shut. Jess sat cross-legged on the cold concrete floor with joints that ached. He looked down at his gnarled fingers and continued to twist and braid the dry fibers between them, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Unending. It was suffocating and unending._

_"_ _What are you thinking about, old man?"_

_At the voice from the next cell, Jess jolted as if from sleep, and as he did, the stale air turned to blue, open space and a biting, salt wind. All at once he found himself standing, legs weak, with too much sky before him-sky down to his feet...and below them...solid stone, dropping off just at his toes, with pebbles clattering down...down...down… echoing to a place so distant that he didn't hear them land. Instinctively, he tried to step back from the dizzying edge, but an invisible force resisted the movement. It's like there's a glass wall-every time I'm here. There was no moving backward. And only an idiot with a death wish would move a fraction of an inch forward._

_"_ _You'll have to jump," a shrill voice called above the wind._

_Jess looked to his left to see the shrink from Munchkinland looking at him intently over the rim of her pink glasses. He looked at her incredulously. Okay, she wasn't here before._

_"_ _You jump! Do you think I'm nuts?! I'll die!" His voice cracked with the intensity of the words._

_"_ _Trust me. You have to JUMP!"_

_Even as the stark imperative issued from her lips, she started to fade...physically fade...and the sound of her words faded with her. In the same moment, the roar of an engine made Jess spin around-or try to. His legs still unable to broach the transparent barrier, all he could do was twist to look behind; and before he even saw it, he knew his beloved heap of rust was barreling directly toward him, tires spitting dirt. All he could see was the grill coming straight for him. There was no choice._

_A leap and then free fall. The hunk of junk Gypsy sold him never looked larger than it did cresting the cliff, falling through the air above him, blotting out the stupid sun. Having the words I should've listened echoing through his mind while two tons of scrap metal crushed him seemed like a fitting end. However he died, it was pretty well bound to be on a note of irony...a universal it figures._

* * *

Mid July 2004 - session 5

"Congratulations. You've infiltrated my stupid dream," Jess said the minute he walked into Doris' office.

"Dream?" The brow creased between the piercing eyes of her elfin visage.

"You were never there before-now you are...dressed like you're leading the Lollipop Guild."

"Oh,  _thank_  your subconscious for that one. Completely unique. No one has ever drawn such a comparison up until this point in my life. And if you believe that one…"

"Fine. So my subconscious isn't even  _creative_. It just likes to flip me off with sublimated psychiatrists that blame me for getting pulverized rather than voluntarily jumping to my death. But, in the future-hey, take something that isn't under copyright."

"All right, we definitely need to back up."

Jess sat heavily in the seat opposite her, deflating with a sigh.

"Recurring dream," Doris said. It was a question but came off as if she were reading a checklist.

"Yes."

"Always the same until now, or has it been known to change before?" She pushed up her glasses in the same futile motion that was her calling card.

"Always the same."

"In the beginning of the dream, what is the first thing you see?" Her words held a clarity as if conjuring the images into the air.

"My hands...but they're sinewy and old with thick callouses, and they're all cut-up from weaving hemp."

"What do those hands tell you? What do you think they mean?" Doris asked intently, her eyes watching him just as they had in the dream.

"Years...they look like years of grueling work...pain...numbness…" Jess blinked rapidly, uncomfortable at the recollection of these images.

"And hemp, why are you weaving hemp? A connection to your mother's lifestyle, perhaps? Or…?"

"No," he answered abruptly.

Doris nodded in a leading fashion.

Jess took another deep breath. "Futility. It's an exercise in futility."

"How so?"

"There was this guy...this old homeless guy...out on the boardwalk in L.A. Looked about a million years old, no teeth, eyes all hollowed out, skin like...leather. Don't even know if he could walk. He was always just sitting there...weaving and hawking hats. It was like he'd always been there...and always would be...like he just...got stuck in time somehow with no purpose."

Doris resumed nodding. "In this dream-are, _you_  sitting on the boardwalk in Los Angeles?"

Jess ducked his head downward. "No...I'm in prison," the words came out choked.

Doris watched him for a prolonged moment, her tongue stilled and with an empathy in her eyes which he did not look up to see. Finally, she drew a breath and resumed...going on to question him about the light, the smell, the sounds echoing off the prison walls...and what it all meant...to him. And she watched Jess Mariano shrink into himself, almost quivering. When the dream shifted and he told her about the cliffside, the invisible barrier that kept him from moving back to safety, he became wild eyed and his breath quickened and frayed.

"That's where the dream usually ends. I can't make my legs move backward, no matter what I do...but if I even  _sway_  forward the tiniest bit, I'm going to fall to my death."

"What happened this time?"

"You were there."

" _And?_ "

"You told me to jump."

Something in Doris' eyes sparkled at this.

"You said to trust you, and that I  _had_  to jump...and then you disappeared."

"Well, that's a therapist's job," she smiled.

"Yes, but then a car ran me off the cliff!"

"Well," Doris noted, "you didn't jump."

Jess sighed, slumping down, head hung between his shoulders while bracing his arms on the seat of the couch. "I didn't jump and I got pinned underneath a '69 Rambler Ambassador at the bottom of a  _ravine_. Yeah, that's fair."

" _Your_  car," Doris pointed out.

"Yeah, it's my- How-"

"I am capable of looking out a window."

"And determining the make and model of-"

"Kind of a car buff...not important. You were pinned at the bottom of a ravine by your own car. Who was driving?" Doris questioned.

"No one," Jess answered. "It was empty, driving itself."

"When did you get that car?" Doris scrunched her eyebrows as if this was a crucial point.

"In Stars Hollow."

"Your old life. You still have that car. What does that car mean to you, Jess?"

An empty tiredness filled his eyes like he was drowning. His voice turned quiet. "At one time...the means to move forward-to get somewhere in life… Now…" Jess gazed around as if looking for help that wasn't there, "...running away… my past… the future that didn't happen…"

Doris was quiet for a moment as she watched the young man in front of her struggle against tears he refused to shed. "Everything that's killing you…?"

He nodded.

"Jess…" she whispered his name, gentle for the first time in his recollection, "...you  _do_  need to trust me…this experience doesn't have to be horrible. You don't  _have_  to be crushed. You could make the most of a bad situation. I told you that I  _can_  be your  _best friend,_ and I meant it _..._ "

"I…" he couldn't even respond without his voice cracking. He looked up at her...voiceless...rasping out a breath, "... _how?_ "

She knew the look of vulnerability and brokenness on the boy in front of her. He was finally ready. Doris collected herself and straightened. "Jess Mariano, why...are you  _HERE?_ "

Jess battled with his vocal cords and flexed his jaw, momentarily caught between tears and anger boiling over. Fury quenched by introspection, fueled by impatience and the indignity of someone knowing what was going on in his head better than he did...knowing and not telling him...knowing and dragging it out of him when he didn't understa-

His words shook in places, but there was a firmness that hadn't existed the moment before. "Because I  _WANT_ to do  _more!_  Because I am  _NOT_ going to  _rot_ , in prison or out of it. Because I need to be  _done_  with my  _defeatist cynicism;_  and because it's  _exhausting_  being angry all the time. Because my whole life there have been people who believed that I would wind up  _in this position_ , for the exact reason I am  _IN_ this position; and I am SICK of them being right! Because I  _CAN'T_  let my past plow me into the ground, and so I have  _GOT TO_  jump! But I  ** _DON'T. KNOW. HOW._**  THAT is why I'm here!"

Doris smiled, her eyes ablaze with something deeper than satisfaction. "You  _put_ me in that dream. You  _chose_ to come here.  _YOU_ decided to jump. This isn't about the nice letter I may or may not write the judge.  _The_ only person that can jump is you, and I can  _show_  you how." She licked her lips and rolled up her sleeves. "You have a lot of work and only eleven more sessions to do it in. Time to begin."


	13. I know The Shame In Your Defeat

_I have had dreams and I have had nightmares, but I have conquered my nightmares because of my dreams._

_~Jonas Salk_

Just as his car was about to crash down on him, Jess sat straight up in bed while his alarm went off.

Lovely…hIs subconscious was yelling at him again. He got up to get dressed and noticed the text message on his phone.

_Can we meet me at the 'Sidewalk Café' on South St. in Hartford tomorrow around one?_

She had sent it the night before.

 _For?_ he answered her.

He checked his email and saw a  _friendly reminder_  that the deadline to apply for graduation was almost here. And  _that_  would be why his subconscious had replaced Doris with the patient persistence of Dr. Jessica Tibke.

 _Lunch,_ Rory sent back

_See you then._

* * *

Jess arrived early and found a table near the back of the mostly empty cafe. Despite the music blaring from his headphones, he still noticed Rory when she walked briskly into the café carrying a large plastic bag.

Rory was wearing a workman's jump suit with  _Hartford Zoo Maintenance_  written on the back. She quickly ducked into the bathroom. Five minutes later she reemerged, now in jeans and a sweater. She went back out the door; then walked back into the restaurant with only her purse.

"I've never seen you so focused," she greeted him.

"Hey," he returned the greeting absently; "...just let me finish this," he murmured, taking his headphones off, but still concentrating on his work.

She waited patiently while he tapped at the keyboard, frowning.

"All done," he said, sending the email off.

"Work?"

"No, school."

"Oh," she paused. "Winter semester classes go so fast, it's hard to get anything else done."

"The pace sucks, but I'm just trying to be done with it," he closed his laptop. "You want to order?"

"Oh yeah," Rory nodded.

"I'm, uh, getting close to finishing my AA." He left a stunned Rory at the table.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" Rory followed him to the counter where he was ordering food.

"What do you want?" Jess asked, nodding toward the menu board and ignoring her question.

"Whatever you're having," she said quickly." You're doing that evasive maneuvers, avoiding the question thing," she said when they were sitting back down.

"I answered your question."

"Jess," she said in the way only Rory Gilmore could say his name to get him to do just about anything.

"I'm close to graduating," Jess blurted out. Saying it filled him with a pride he didn't know he even had.

"How? Wow...that's incredible!" Rory said, not trying to hide her enthusiasm.

He told her the whole story, how his teacher at the adult school more or less dared him to take the entrance exams. How Chris' father encouraged him to apply for scholarships and helped him get a second job so he could attend full-time when his classes proved useful around Truncheon. "I had to learn desktop publishing and layout, because they wanted me to be backup for the 'zine," Jess explained. He told her how his guidance counselor made him pick a major even though he had no intention of finishing it, "A creative writing certificate would be as far as I thought I would get if I finished anything."

Through it all Rory listened, nodded where appropriate, and didn't hide her excitement even a little. "Jess, that's  _fantastic_ ," she gushed when he was finished. "You're gonna do it, right? You're gonna sign up for the classes and graduate?"

Jess looked at her in silence for all of five seconds before opening his computer and showing her the tab that was open, with confirmation that he had indeed filled out the paperwork.

Her eyes filled with tears momentarily, "Jess, that's amazing," she breathed. " _You're_  amazing. Have you thought about transferring to a University?"

Jess nearly choked on his drink at her question. "No," he said decisively.

"Why not? You're a published author at barely twenty-one. And I'm assuming your GPA is decent, considering you got straight A's; and, most importantly, you're  _beyond_  capable."

"Rory, stop. I'm not University material. There is a  _reason_  online classes and short semesters work for me."

"But, you're one of the smartest people I know."

"And?"

"You are."

"There are  _a lot_  of smart people without a college degree."

"That's good for them. But you can't use that as a reason not to finish what you started."

"I  _started_  a set of classes. After that, I set out to get a certificate. I just now  _decided_  to go for my AA. Even if I suddenly had the burning desire to get a Bachelors Degree, I don't want to put myself into massive debt for a piece of paper, when I already have a job I  _love_  that I got without a degree."

They finished eating, but neither was ready to part ways.

"You wanna take a walk or do you have to be somewhere?" Jess asked when Rory was scraping the last bit of sauce onto her fork.

"No, I'm free for the rest of the day," Rory said, placing the fork on her plate after savoring the tangy sauce. She grabbed her purse from beneath the table and Jess retrieved his coat.

Outside the cafe, they walked silently for the space of two or three blocks. Their steps swung almost in unison at a casual and peaceful pace.

"Indulge me for a minute and answer one question and I won't bring it up again," Rory said when they were in the park.

Jess looked at her sideways, "Okay," he answered tentatively.

"If you suddenly decided you wanted a bachelor's degree, and it wouldn't, as you said, 'put you in massive debt for a piece of paper,' what school  _would_  you choose?"

"Whatever school would take me," he shrugged.

"In this scenario, you are guaranteed admission to anywhere and can go wherever you desire. 100% your choice."

"Clown College," he deadpanned.

"Jess, I'm being serious."

"So am I. I want to juggle..." he nodded his head in feigned resoluteness "...do better magic tricks."

"Forget I even asked," she said in annoyance.

Jess took a deep breath, he had never admitted this to anyone, and it had been over a decade since he even thought about it. "If reality was suspended," he started slowly, "and I could go wherever I wanted... I guess," he paused. "It's a pipe dream, but I would go to NYU."

"Really? Of all the schools you could go to, that's where you would choose?"

" Well I…yeah," he stammered. "I grew up in the East Village...which is basically the NYU campus. I spent a lot of time in Washington Square Park. I walked by the Bobst Library every day, and it killed me that I couldn't go inside. In the fall, I watched as the new students moved into the dorms. Every spring, I watched the graduates wade through the fountain and walk under the arch. It's crazy, but in a universe where I can't get rejected, I would pick NYU."

Rory looked at him for a minute, taken aback by his earnestness, "Jess, that's not a pipe dream," she said softly.

"Yeah, it is," he said defensively.

They continued walking through the park silently until they spotted a bookstore.

"You wanna go in?" she asked, a small smile playing on her lips.

He nodded in agreement and they entered the small marketplace of letters and worlds. He knew the owner and hoped he wouldn't be recognized.

"All this is 50% off the marked price?" Rory said, staring at the longs rows of used books."The last book I read was yours."

"Really..." Jess said slowly, lost in a book he picked up and barely registering what she was really saying.

"Look what I found," Rory said, grabbing Jess' arm and pulling him toward the front of the store. She pointed to the staff recommended books. 'John' had made a recommendation for the  _The Subsect_ written in her handwriting.

"Rory…" Jess started with a sigh and a slight smirk. "You planned this?"

"Would you relax," she whispered. "I didn't do it while you were in the store. I did it before closing yesterday."

"They're gonna think I paid you to do that," he whispered back.

"Do you recognize anyone in the store who will think you're unprofessional for coming back to buy books?"

"No…but..."

"Then don't worry about it."

"You're crazy. I have to maintain a business relationship with these people."

"Do you want me to take it down?" Rory asked. When he said nothing, a smile spread across her face, "I thought not."

* * *

"I just need to grab my phone," Rory said when they got back to her car with a bag filled with books. Jess had a similar bag and went to go put it in his own car.

Rory was rifling through the plastic bag with her uniform, looking for her phone when Jess walked up behind her and saw the uniform up close, along with a time sheet from the zoo marking her hours.

"So..." he elongated the word with a grimace, "are we gonna talk about that?" The tilt of his gesture indicated the direction of the duffel bag and the pale khaki canvas pocket inside it that she'd just rifled through.

Rory's eyes were as big a five-year-old's. She gulped and spoke with a break in her voice, "How did you...?"

"I'm..." Jess nodded with a mildly sour expression toward said garment, " familiar with involuntary voluntary service. Rory," he said softly, "What happened? That," he pointed at her uniform, "is more than you taking time off and dropping out of Yale. Why has it been so long since you've been to a bookstore?"

"I…" she looked up at him. "I can't talk about it. Not here anyway."

"Rory, it's okay for you to lean on me. I mean… if it would help somehow, my shoulders are pretty broad; I think I could support you without letting either of us fall."

"I…" she stammered. "It's not that. I just...it's complicated."

"It usually is," he said.

They walked silently back through the park until Rory spoke again, "Mitchum Huntzberger told me I didn't have what it took to be a journalist..." her voice sounded as if she was uncertain he'd realize the kind of blow this had been to her.

He was silent for all of five seconds. " _The_  Mitchum Huntzberger?"

It wasn't possible to be in and around publishing and _not_  be acquainted with the man's reputation and empire.

Rory nodded hollowly.

Jess cast his eyes down, he kicked at the ground, and when he spoke, his voice was muffled. "That's awful, I'm so sorry Rory. He's wrong. You know he's wrong, right?

"You remember in Moby Dick when the narrator says that when he finds himself growing grim about the mouth and wanted to knock people's hats off, he takes to the sea?" Rory asked, avoiding answering Jess' rhetorical question. She stopped in front of a snow covered swing and sat down, Jess did the same.

"'...It requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street…'" Jess quoted.

"Right well, after he told me that I... I stole a yacht. I was arrested, spent a few hours in a cell and my mom had to come pick me up. I pled guilty to criminal mischief to avoid additional felony charges, and I'm currently completing three hundred hours of community service as...payment of my debt to society." The words of the last phrase were clipped.

Jess' heart quickened at her confession.

"Afterwards, I just...I needed to figure out what I wanted if I wasn't going to be what I thought I always wanted to be."

"So you moved in with your grandparents and joined the DAR?" The question was put gently but not without a brow creased in disbelief.

"Not my finest hour," she said, quietly rocking back forth on the swing. "The whole thing wasn't my finest hour. I'm on probation for a year; and to add to it all, I'll have a criminal record unless the judge allows it to be expunged in five years. For the grand finale, I didn't speak to my mother for months."

Jess was silent as everything she was saying registered with him.

"What about you Kurt," she asked, a half smile at the corner of her mouth. "What do you know about involuntary community service?"

"Let's just say I should have taken to the sea-stolen a yacht of my own,"

Rory raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled by his explanation.

"I was at a concert and got in the middle of something I shouldn't have," he confessed. "I was arrested, spent the night in jail. I also pled to criminal mischief, and I've got a criminal record that I  _can't_  get expunged. I had to pay a fine, and I only had to do a hundred hours of community service, but I had to attend court ordered therapy. At my final court date, the judge basically told me to never do it again."

They stared at each other for a minute and then burst out laughing.

"Let's not tell anyone that we have that in common."

"Ever."

"I would give anything to see you picking up trash on the side of the road," Jess laughed.

Rory laughed until she was wiping tears out of her eyes. "I would give anything to see you in therapy."

"I'm almost positive the therapist was crazy herself." They laughed again, "But It wasn't that horrible," he said seriously. "It was hard, Doris was tough, but I had some stuff I had to work out," Jess said this of Doris with a hint of respect toward the tiny woman tinging his voice...even reflecting in his eyes.

He was hoping she wasn't thinking too deeply about the kinds of things he had to work out while in therapy, or what events put him in a state where he got into a public brawl. Jess couldn't know Rory was thinking about stupid things of her own that had followed the same heartbreaking, gut punching, head spinning conversation.

"I go back to school next week and have to meet with the school psychologist," Rory said after a long silence. "Every student who takes time off has to meet with them and I'm just…"

"Nervous?"

"Yeah," Rory blinked back a tear she didn't know she had been holding in and was embarrassed at the way her voice tremored in that one syllable.

"But you've already had your worst nightmare... _actually happen._ "

Rory's head snapped to attention, "What do you know about my worst nightmares?"

"Disappointing your mother, dropping out of school, failing to live up to the perfect standards other people set for you and you set for yourself...need I continue?"

"Ok, yeah..." she concerned. For the first time, it occurred to her that perhaps Jess did know her better than anyone else.

"But you're  _still here_ -it  _didn't kill you_. It wasn't even the worst thing that could  _happen_."

Rory nodded rapidly, choking back the emotion she didn't realize was so close to all spilling out. Feeling lost  _was_  her worst nightmare; and even though it was reassuring to have someone actually understand, it was terrifying at the same time. To be seen so clearly. Her eyes darted left and right, trying to rein in that fear; and she clamped down her lips before trusting her voice to speak. "So then, what do I now?"

"You do exactly what you are doing and don't look back."

"I know that Mitchum was wrong," she said softly. "I know I want to be at Yale and that I want to be a journalist."

"That's good. And he _is_  wrong," Jess said. "But I think there's more to take from all of this than just that Mitchum is a jerk."

Rory nodded minutely, and the word 'probably' passed her lips in a whisper.

"Hopefully the school psychologist's worth their salt." Jess took a deep breath. "They could really help."

Rory raised an eyebrow at him, "You really are different. Since when did you believe therapy was anything more than a joke?"

"I don't," he paused, "not with most of the hacks out there, anyway. Just...don't dismiss the whole thing. Take whatever helps and leave the rest."

"I suppose." She looked off into the distance, avoiding his gaze.

Jess frowned, looking down at the spot where his right shoe scuffed in the gravel underneath the swings while one thumb worried at his eyebrow. "Mitchum Huntzberger is Logan's…?"

"Father," Rory answered.

Jess nodded. "So he was talking to you as his son's girlfriend, or…?"

"An intern."

He nodded again. "Did he give you anything more than 'you don't have what it takes'? Any kind of actual feedback?"

Rory's eyes turned downward, recollecting words that had clearly stung and bruised. "He said that I didn't 'put myself out there'...that I didn't have the  _drive_."

Jess looked at her steadily.

"He said I'd make an excellent  _assistant;_ because evidently, I'm great at  _anticipating needs._ Not what a journalist does, I guess, _"_ Rory swallowed in a way that betrayed a lump in her throat. Her voice went whispery again. "I guess you were right."

"What?" Jess' brows drew sharply together.

"It  _was_  a little too rough for me," Rory wiped tears away from her eyes.

"Stop it!"

His words were so abrupt, as quietly as he spoke them, that they seemed to startle the tears back into their ducts.

"As someone once told me, 'you are  _way_  stronger than that and I don't even wanna hear it.' I told you  _that night_  that I knew you could do it -that you  _would..._ do it."

"You did," Rory agreed softly.

"Mitchum was  _wrong._ He has no idea how much drive you have, or just how much you've had to  _put yourself out there_  to get this far.  _You_  were the one who taught  _me_  that you can do and be anything you put your mind to," he glanced downward. "I guess I'm still learning that one, actually." The swing's chains squeaked and clinked as Jess leaned and pushed himself backward.

Rory met his eyes with a bittersweet smile, her voice almost wistful. "You've come so  _far."_

Jess shrugged. "I'm getting there. Had to learn not to let fear of failure paralyze me...not to let other people determine who or what I would be. I had to learn how to  _stand up on my own two feet_ , pick a  _direction,_  and actually move  _forward_  first. You had that part down a long time ago."

"I feel like I've got so far to go… I've fallen so far behind."

Jess looked up at her, a glimmer of something like hope in his eyes. "Nah...you just tripped. You're exactly where you were. You're already standing up again. Just gotta dust yourself off, bandage up your scrapes, get your bearings, and  _keep going…_ And when you come to that free fall and there's no turning back...you've just gotta jump," he caught her eye deliberately, holding her gaze. "You'll do it."


	14. Words On The Page

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are coffee to the soul...

" _It was a joy! Words weren't dull, words were things that could make your mind hum. If you read them and let yourself feel the magic, you could live without pain, with hope, no matter what happened to you."_

―  _Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye_

While Rory waited for Lorelai to pick her up at the diner, she pulled out her copy of  _The Subsect_  and started to re-read it again. She loved each and every word. While some passages flowed simply and naturally, and others were jarring in their brutal honesty, all of them were distinctly the words of Jess Mariano. As if he were speaking directly through the narrative and following the path of the story, you allowed him to lead you through a keyhole into the landscape of his mind.

Her phone rang, and Luke instantly looked up from the counter. "I know, I know. I'm going outside," she said snatching up her phone and purse before he could say anything.

Through the window, he saw Rory hurriedly try to take the call. By her knit brows and the inaudible words she spat looking down at the phone, it appeared that she missed it and was attempting to call back when Lorelai drove up, and the door swung open. There was a jumble of conversation with cars pulling up behind the Jeep and things spilling out of Rory's purse as she negotiated something with her mother, then she bent down, hurriedly plucking tiny objects up off the sidewalk, shoving the bag into Lorelai's passenger's seat and climbing in after it. The door closed, and the Jeep sped off. Watching, Luke frowned at the mysterious and abrupt exit, brows raising a second later. Rory Gilmore had left behind not only her coffee but her  _book._  She must have been  _extraordinarily_ flustered. Luke picked it up for safe keeping, knowing she would be back soon, as always. He'd just give it back the next time he saw her.

Only when it was in his hands, did Luke's eyes land upon the title. He'd never seen an actual copy of  _The Subsect._ Though it wasn't like he'd tell anybody, he  _had_  gone into a couple of bookstores and asked whether they had it in stock. "It's a good book. You should." Even if he hadn't read it, and he wasn't about to mention the fact that his nephew wrote it after he'd just advised them to carry it, he was sure it merited the recommendation...and after all, it was a long shot, but it  _might_  help a little. Remembering his own possibly foolish forays into these shops, Luke flipped through the pages, a little reverently, filled with a sense of breathless disbelief. His eyes didn't pick out words. He was just feeling, exploring this...real accomplishment. The fragrance of freshly printed pages was still there, though Rory's reading had loosened the binding and left the pages not quite as crisp as if it had just come new from a shop. It was a strangely heady feeling that went weak at the elbows, though he didn't know why. It's not like  _he_  wrote the thing. With a deeply drawn breath, he started turning pages more slowly...not reading, since he was turning from back to front, but glancing...letting his eyes run over the words, picking up a sentence or a turn of phrase here and there, tasting the flavor of them. It was only when he had turned a page beyond  _chapter one_ , a single page before the book's title, which he could see bleeding through the paper on the facing page ...small, clearly printed italics...a single sentence... his eyes caught on it, and his breath hitched in his chest:

_For LD - Whatever I become in this life, it's a dedication to the man you are._

Luke held in his hand irrefutable evidence that he hadn't wasted his breath on Jess. Even though his nephew had previously looked him in the eye and said he's been listening, it felt as though he, Luke Danes, had in fact, been enough of a force in his life for Jess to give him credit, even if Luke didn't feel he deserved. Jess was thriving and took no credit for the work he put in.

From the first week, he was in Stars Hollow; Luke swore to Jess he wouldn't let him drift. God knows he tried. But as time went on, he could feel Jess, again and again, slipping from his grasp...through his fingers...through the cracks.

The night of the car crash, they'd sat, cold, on that wooden bridge, mostly in silence. When Jess insisted Luke send him back to New York, he was certain he'd failed. He'd broken his word and lost him. Not that he'd given up. He kept trying to call. But then, out of a clear blue, came back. They'd turned a new leaf, renewed their agreements, established firmer rules, and it felt like this time he was going to  _make_  it. He didn't hear about problems from the school, Jess had taken a second job, had gotten a car all on his own, eventually dumped the flaky girlfriend and started going out with Rory-and that wasn't exactly an easy thing, but they made it work.

Then he made employee of the month at his other job. In what felt like a matter of days, it all fell apart. The school thing had been a sham, the work thing was a problem, Luke felt he had no choice but to confiscate the car, and he had no idea what happened between Jess and Rory, but that crumbled too. And even though he'd been sure that laying down the law was the absolute  _right_  thing to do, the moment the words were out of his mouth it felt as if he'd killed something. When Jess took off for California, there was no question in Luke's mind. It didn't matter that he tried. In every possible way, he had failed his nephew...completely...from beginning to end.

It was only after he'd left that things seemed to turn around for Jess. It wasn't even when he went to see his father, explored his crooked roots. It was after he'd been off on his own. Alone.

The only person who could change Jess, was Jess. He was the only one who would pick himself back up when he had no choice but to  _grow up_. He was the one only who could write his book, have it published, then take a job with the publishing company and get himself into college. It  _had_  to have taken a tremendous amount of nerve and audacity to pick himself up off the ground and take each of those steps alone. After all that, Jess chose to dedicate his novel to the person who had nothing to do with his accomplishment.

He wished his father could see the man Jess turned out to be. He wouldn't have said it out loud, but Luke was sure William would have been proud; and he would have admired his grandson and all that he had done, just as much as Luke did.

Luke swallowed the lump in his throat.

Behind him, Jess had come down the stairs and darted a curious glance at what Luke was holding. His gaze flickered for a fraction of a second. "I'm gonna get out of here for a while," he said with an abrupt casualness, not allowing space for conversation to deepen.

Luke nodded, catching his nephew's eye. "Hey, uh," he found his voice. "We should go Frankie's later."

"Yeah, we should... I'd like that," Jess nodded, his expression softening, though a twitch of the lips betrayed continued uneasiness, covered quickly by a slightly flashed smile. "I'll see you around eight."

* * *

_Thanks for your help._ Jess sent a message to Rory.

_I didn't do much. But from what I could tell, there is something very off._ Rory sent back to Jess.

_Thanks for the second opinion. I'm on the phone with Matt and Chris about it right now._

"Do you have an idea what she poached?" Matt was asking over speakerphone, snapping Jess back to the conversation he was  _supposed_  to be having.

"I have a vague idea. Whatever it is, it's something I've read in the last three or four years," Jess answered.

"Well, did it seem familiar to you at all when you read it the first time around?" Chris asked, his voice shifting as he turned to Matt.

" _I_ didn't read it the first time around. I thought  _you_  did," Matt sighed.

The cellphone buzzed loudly against the tabletop while he held the old handset to his ear. He glanced down.

_Other than re-reading that manuscript what are you doing tonight?_

"Well, then one of us should  _do_  that," Chris suggested.

Matt sighed deeper this time as if sinking his head into his hands. "Well, can you try and figure out what this woman is doing before I accuse her of plagiarism, Jess? One of us is going to read it and confirm…" His voice had a note of defeat.

"And you should call Jerry Gergenheim," Chris added with a groan.

_I have my final paper and exam due Monday, so I thought I would at least attempt to work on that._

"Son of a bitch," Matt grumbled.

"Ben too," Jess suggested.

"Right, good idea."

"He's a SOB as well," Matt repeated. "Just let us know when you figure out what it is, and we will talk to you later."

"I will," Jess answered, tipping his chair backward, in a balancing act Luke would probably still snap at him.

"And Jess," Matt said before they hung up. "Good work."

The parting comment brought a half smile to his face.

His phone buzzed again.  _You're doing homework lol...wait I forgot that's something you do now..._

"Yeah, your instincts are right," Chris added. "I hope you're wrong, but knowing you, I doubt it."

"Oh, uh, thanks," he said, taken aback by the vote of confidence.

After they had hung up, he thumbed through the manuscript for the millionth time; focusing in on a few passages he made notes on.

_They want me to figure out what she plagiarized._

His phone rang after he sent the text. Without looking at the number, he answered.

"Hello."

"Jess?"

"Yeah."

"This is Anna."

"Oh," he hadn't heard from her since the night he had dinner at her house, "hi."

"Are you still in town?"

"I'm not leaving until next Saturday."

"Good," she paused. "Listen, I know this is so not cool, but I'm desperate, and all of my backups are unavailable, and I have to go out of town tomorrow. It's last minute and completely unavoidable. I generally don't mind leaving April for a few hours, but I don't want to leave her all day, nor can I take her with me. I was wondering how you felt about going bowling, so she isn't completely on her own?"

"So you need a babysitter?"

"April doesn't need a babysitter, but I don't want her to be alone all day."

"I'm not..." Jess stammered. "I...don't…"

"I understand if you can't…"

"No, no it isn't that, I just have a lot going on tomorrow," Jess paused, "My uncle asked me to fill in for him at the diner. But I guess...she...could...come to Stars Hollow."

"There's one more thing," she paused for a beat, "I think she wants to ask you about Jimmy," Anna added. "And I believe she doesn't know how to approach you about it, but she wants to before you leave."

Jess was silent for a moment as he contemplated this, "I don't know him that well. He had nothing to do with raising me. Won't it be a disappointment to her when she realizes I don't have a lot of answers?"

"I think that she's opened Pandora's Box and I can't shield her from life's disappointments. I can only be there to pick her up when she falls."

"Right," Jess said softly.

"Tell her what you know. I will take care of the emotional roller coaster she's heading towards. You…probably have a few questions..." Anna started taking a deep breath, "I know I would. There's nothing off limits when it comes to Jimmy."

"O-kay," Jess answered.

"She can be there around three, and I will pick her up around seven," Anna added, sensing Jess' discomfort.

"Uh, right. Sounds good. Does she knows how to get to Luke's?"

"I will make sure she does."

"See you tomorrow then."

They hung up, and Jess had a text message from Rory:

_Not sure, something recent, though. I can stop by after I get home from work._

_April is going to be at Luke's. I just got off the phone with her mother, Anna._

_Oh Cool! Introduce me?_

_I suppose..._

There was a knock at the door to the apartment, "Isn't this your place?" Jess asked when he saw Luke.

"Not when you're here. You ready?"

"Uh, yeah," he answered, hoping Luke didn't suspect he had forgotten. "Let's go."

* * *

I had no idea he tried out for The Red Sox's," Jess exclaimed, sitting next to Luke at the bar, both with a beer next to them.

"Yeah, your grandpa was a pitcher, and he was invited to try out right out of high school. He met your grandmother a week later and refused their offer to play for the farm team because construction paid more. Then they bought the land the diner is on now."

"That's pretty impressive," Jess said taking a sip of his beer. "Not the Red Sox's part, but the other stuff."

Luke rolled his eyes and glared at Jess over his beer.

"What? I grew up in New York when they made their run in the 90's."

"It's the Yankees. And you hate sports."

"Not true…" Jess corrected. "I can't stand dumb jocks. I like peanuts and cracker jacks."

"Hmm, well, I'm with you there. And personally, I'd much rather sit back and watch the game than go someplace with girls in string bikinis or somethin'." Jess nearly spit out his beer as Luke continued. "Just something to keep in mind when you're planning my bachelor party."

"I'm sorry, your what?"

"You know, cause you're my best man."

"I am?"

"Well, I'd like you to be."

"Really?"

"Yes really," Luke signaled the bartender. "Two more and the tab please," he said pointing at the beer in his hand.

"You really want me to plan the bachelor party?"

"It's either you or TJ."

"Okay," he said nodding after a moment.

"Okay, you'll plan the bachelor party or okay, you'll be the best man?"

"Both."

The bartender set two beers in front of them.

"Good," Luke smiled. "You're sure you don't mind filling in for me tomorrow?"

"No, Ed's been sick and I have some work to get done anyway so by the time you leave, I'll need a break," Jess paused. "I talked to Anna. April's coming to the diner while you're gone."

"She asked you to babysit?" Luke questioned amused. "Isn't it too soon for that?"

"Anna has to go out of town for the day, and I guess April can't go with her, so she's gonna come to the diner."

"Anna's her mother right?" Luke questioned.

"Yep," Jess swallowed the last of his beer.

"Have you found out anything about her and Jimmy?"

"I haven't asked. Anna left the door open, though."

"You're not curious?" Luke asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I am," Jess shrugged. "I'm not leaving to go back to Philly without some answers."

Luke focused on his beer, he wanted to say more but instead changed the subject. "You know Jimmy was a Red Sox fan. It was possible the only thing we had in common."

"I know he called me, screaming about a bloody sock and "the curse" finally being broken," Jess said, with a laugh. "You know, I think that's the only decent thing you or mom has ever said about Jimmy."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It is what it is," Jess shrugged.

* * *

"What's wrong?" Rory asked when she noticed Jess glancing at the clock.

"It's after three and April isn't here yet," he answered

"Look at you being all big brother…" Rory started to tease.

Jess shook his head at Rory, "Don't say that too loud. You and Luke are the only people who know that...well here at least in Stars Hollow."

"Sorry….sorry, Jess I'm so…" she started.

"It's fine, just…"

"I won't."

"Rory," he said slowly. "It's okay…really."

"I just…"

"Stop," he was silent for a moment. "She wouldn't be coming here if I was that worried about it. I just don't want to answer questions from people who just want to gossip."

"Is that her?" Rory asked, pointing to a girl locking up her bike outside the diner.

"Hi," April said a few minutes later.

"What took you so long?" He asked when he saw her.

"I rode the bus, and it took a minute to find this place and lock my bike. You were worried?"

"I'm supposed to be watching you."

"Uh no, you're not. You're supposed to be keeping me company until my mother gets here."

"Otherwise known as a babysitter."

"I haven't needed a babysitter since I was eight and the babysitter started a grease fire, and I put it out with the fire extinguisher. Can I come and sit down?" She asked.

"At the counter," Jess said getting out of her way.

"Hi," Rory said. "You must be April? I'm Rory. It's nice to meet you."

"Oh, Hi," she said, looking Rory up and down.

"You want something to eat?" Jess asked.

"Uh, can I have some fries?" April asked.

"Yep," Jess said, wiping down the counter. "Here," he said putting the plate in front of her and then going to take orders from other customers.

April said nothing and made a salt and pepper dip for her fries.

"What are you reading?" Rory leaned forward eagerly, craning her neck to read the title.

April held up the cover.

"'The Euahlayi Tribe; A study of Aboriginal life in Australia.'" Rory nodded appreciatively. "What made you pick that tribe to look up?"

"It was the only book in the school library that talks about Aboriginal agriculture," April explained. "They're hard to find." She regarded Rory circumspectly, pretending to read.

For the next hour, Jess served customers. When it got slow, Rory and Jess discussed the manuscript. All the while, April watched in observation, half reading her book, half listening to the conversation.

"If you're looking for something familiar," she interrupted them, during a lull while they went over the manuscript again. "Why don't you just Google it?"

Rory and Jess looked at each other, each with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean you can find anything on Google," April shrugged her shoulder. "I found you."

"Huh." Jess shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head as he considered the oddity.

"You really can. Unfortunately, I tried googling stuff about the premise last night and came up empty. Then again, I could only search based on concepts, which wasn't much to go on," Rory said.

Jess sighed, looking over at April, "Okay, Nancy Drew, what exactly should we google?"

"Well technically speaking, your inquiry would need to be such that Google's algorithm can detect to maximize your search potential."

"What? In plain English," Jess looked confused.

"Just…something you both agree stands out. Like a quote or a theme."

Rory had been reading snatches throughout the discussion. As April finished the sentence, her hand froze in the act of turning a page. "A quote…" she breathed. "Yeah...I've got a quote." With her finger just at the beginning of one line, she silently pushed the volume over to Jess and swallowed, her glance dropping to the floor."

His eyes scanned the passage briefly, a hitch in his lungs at the same point he was certain her fingers had halted in mid turn. "I supposed that would be the most familiar," he agreed, his voice huskier than he wanted it to be, their eyes meeting for a moment.

"I can see your margin notes," Rory muttered, her eyes fixed on the words.

_"His face, as it was then has been overlaid in my memory by the faces he had later. If I see him in my mind's eye as he was then, he doesn't have a face at all, and I have to reconstruct it. High forehead, high cheekbones, pale blue eyes, full lips carved in bronze, square jaw and broad-planed, strong, manly face. I know that I found it to be a face of honor, of courage, and of great beauty. But I cannot recapture such beauty, such courage, and such honor._

They gazed at each other, momentarily frozen in time.

April cleared her throat awkwardly, "So uh… what are we looking up?"

After the space of a moment, while April's question filtered through, Rory drew a rapid breath, pulling herself out of her trance. "I know what it is, or at least where it is. Or I think I do," she said, striding out of the diner, the bell above the front door clinking in her wake.

The phone in April's pocket beeped, and she picked it up when she saw it was her friend Katie.

"Off the phone," a loud booming voice came from the door of the diner. April jumped up as she snapped the phone shut.

"I'm sorry, my friend called...and..." April said, turning red and talking faster while the strange man in flannel glared at her.

"Luke," Jess said walking back behind the counter. "This is April."

"April? You're April?" Luke softened as he was introduced to the girl. "I'm Luke. Jess' uncle. This is my diner...which is evident by the...name out front."

"It's nice to meet you," April said, her heart rate returning to normal. "I'm sorry, I didn't know I couldn't talk on the phone…"

"There are no cell phones in the diner," Luke repeated, glaring at Jess and pointing at the sign. "It applies to everyone. Take it outside next time," Luke said and disappeared behind the curtain.

"Thanks," April said, turning her focus to Jess. "You could've told me."

Jess smirked, "Sorry, everyone has to learn that one the hard way."


	15. The Right To Be Kurt Cobainy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure If I've done my job as a writer making you wonder about this, and how this girl found Jess...but anyway, I hope you have been wondering how this was all possible...this is one part of it anyway.
> 
> Just a reminder-this story is set in 2006; and privacy laws regarding the online accessibility of legal documents in the public record have changed tremendously over the intervening years. These documents likely would not be as readily available today as April described them to be in her research. However, restraining orders are public record.

_"People tell me I look like my father. I've never seen my dad, so does that mean I look invisible?"_

_Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not for Sale_

"Thanks for filling in," Luke said a few minutes later to Jess when he came back downstairs.

Jess nodded in reply with half a smile. "Hey," he said to April. "You wanna get out of here? Go for a walk? Buy a unicorn figurine or something?"

"Uh, sure," April said, frowning at the last suggestion, that she clearly didn't fully grasp as a joke. She grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulders.

"So that's your Uncle Luke?" She asked after they had left the diner.

"Yup, that's him."

"Did you go to school here?" April asked trying to keep the conversation going.

"New York is home," Jess answered evasively.

"Oh," She nodded while walking. "Do you like it better there?"

Jess shrugged a grimace. "Mostly. Lots of good bookstores...cheap. You can read your heart out for almost nothing if you know the right places. Same with clothes and CDs if you know what you're looking for. Lots of street music, some of it really good. Parks. Museums. Killer libraries." He drew a quick, deep breath. "Plenty of down sides. But a whole lot you definitely can't find in Stars Hollow."

"I've been there a little," she smiled, reminding him, just for a flash of a moment, of another out-of-towner he'd given a short tour to once.

"Mmm-hmm. Definitely not enough to know all the right places, but enough to see a couple of really cool museums."

He nodded respectfully, smiling in his turn.

"Umm," she began again nervously. "What...what about…your...our...da..."

"Just call him Jimmy."

They'd settled into a private bench at the park across the street from Luke's after stopping at Weston's for hot chocolate for April.

"Okay, what about Jimmy?"

Jess drew in a deep breath, "He came looking for me when I was eighteen."

April was silent as she let his answer sink in, "You've only known him three years?"

"I lived with him for a few months in Venice Beach," Jess said, choosing his words carefully. Maybe she didn't need to know everything just yet.

April nodded, staring out straight ahead of her.

"He married Sasha about a year ago. He has a stepdaughter, Lily. I think she turned thirteen in September."

April continued to stare off into space.

"He has a hot dog stand where he obsesses over pickle labels and makes decent Chili Dogs."

"He has a stepdaughter?" she said, finally turning to him.

"Yeah, Lily," he confirmed. "He's been in her life since she was about three."

"Wow," she said more to herself. "And he's married."

"I understand the need to know who your father is. It's..."

"Lonely…"April finished for him.

"That's...it is," Jess nodded slightly.

"I guess my mom was right. I didn't think about what would happen after I found him...or you." She was quiet again. "I want to think about it some more."

"That's understandable."

"And, if I decide that I want to know him, can you…would you call him?"

"Yeah, I will," Jess paused for a moment. "I'm sorry I can't be more helpful." He moved to get off the bench but paused. "Can I ask you a question?"

April nodded, still with a deer in the headlights look.

"How did you track me down? It couldn't have been just a lucky Google search."

"Mom said I would owe you an explanation at some point." She took a deep breath. "I put the project together through my mom's journals, which I already told you. I found her ex and her college friend easily. Jimmy was the trickiest because he was only in three entries from the summer of '93, and the nature of the relationship wasn't discussed in her journal, but I had that picture. I was able to find Jimmy pretty easily in California, but that meant no DNA for testing since I couldn't figure out how to get Mom to let me go to California," April paused to catch her breath. "So, I had to find some other way."

"And this was all for a science project?" Jess asked with a raised eyebrow.

April nodded, "College admission boards look at that sort of thing."

"But for a science project in the seventh grade?"

"And even if they don't, it looks good on an application."

"That tenacity regarding academics does not come from Jimmy's side, just so we're clear."

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?"

"Continue," he sighed.

"Anyway," she started again, "in one of her journal entries, mom mentioned that Jimmy said something about having a little boy, about nine, born in October; and he didn't know if he was in New York or Connecticut. I just started with; but that came up with ten million records, or 1,802, to be precise-"

"Did I mention the academics thing-particularly the memory for numbers thing-definitely your mom's side of the family."

April ignored him. "And I could only narrow age range down to a span of eight years, which would have multiplied my research time 800%. So I started putting the last name into every public records search engine I could find. I focused on New York, New Jersey and Connecticut, including newspapers, court documents and anything else that could have someone's name on it, that I could search by birth year. This was also going on the hypothesis that the probability of your last name being Mariano was high, even though I didn't have any data to back that up-and only realized later that my hypothesis was scientifically and statistically dumb. But, in this case, kind of like Columbus bumping into a gigantic land mass instead of having his entire crew die in the middle of the ocean, it happened to work out anyway."

"Does the FBI know about you?"

"I looked people up online and filtered. The FBI doesn't care."

"So," he asked, shifting to a more pragmatic tone, "somehow those records searches led you right to my doorstep, huh?"

"No, not at all. It took me almost two weeks to narrow it down, but I found five real possibilities. The first two I contacted and spoke to their fathers, so they were out. I never heard from one. All I had for him was an email address, and an old screen name, and a string of disconnected phone numbers. One was deceased, but his obituary listed a man with a different last name as his father. I ran your name through a google search and found Truncheon books. Then I used the picture on the website and compared it to Jimmy. You look kind of alike, at least in the pictures. Besides, when I saw you were going to be in Connecticut, I figured, statistically, you were my last chance."

Jess was quiet as he processed all of what April told him, "I have an unlisted number and you can't just view a birth certificate online. So what did you find with my name on it that made you think I could be your brother?"

"It wasn't a birth record," April said, growing suddenly quiet, her cheeks reddening. "It was...It was really hard to find and behind a paywall, so I couldn't read it or get all the information about what was in it. All I was really looking for at that point was your name."

The shift in April's anxiety level hummed in the air, and Jess felt his own nerves tingle in response.

"What was is it?" he asked, his breath going shallow. A chill went down his spine and he prayed to whatever deity listened to prayers that she hadn't found his criminal record.

She swallowed hard, "I don't know exactly. But it was some sort of legal document from 1991. It was in the subsection about...um...about domestic violence; and I think it said it was an order of protection from somebody, but unless I paid them money or went to the courthouse, it wouldn't tell me who. All I wanted was a name; the part it let me read had your birthday in October." April became flustered as she continued talking. "I'm so sorry… When I told mom, she was upset and said I might have found something I shouldn't have. She grounded me from using the computer alone for a really long time because, according to her, I shouldn't pry into people's private lives even in the name of science…" she drifted into silence for a couple of seconds before quietly adding, "...and I hope you're not mad at me for finding it."

Jess breathed a small sigh, relief mixing with horror; but he didn't say anything more for a minute, stone-faced and rigid. "It's getting late, your mom is going to be here soon." He got up from the bench and April followed, keeping her eyes on the ground.

________

Anna pulled into a parking spot in Stars Hollow and walked into Luke's Diner. At the back of the counter was a man in a flannel baseball cap and jeans, that she assumed was Luke. Sitting at the counter were two women, with long dark hair, one older than the other, each with a cup of coffee and a plate of pie in front of them.

"Luke? Are you Luke Danes?"

"Yes, I am. You are?"

"I'm Anna Nardini, April's mom," she stuck her hand out to shake Luke's.

"It's very nice to meet you. April and Jess went for a walk and should be back soon. Have a seat," he said, indicating an empty stool for Anna to sit.

"Coffee?" Luke asked.

"No thanks, but some apple pie would be great."

The younger woman had perked up and was looking at her, bright eyed. "You're April's mom? I'm Rory; and this is my mom, Lorelai."

"Nice to meet you," Anna said, slightly confused as to who these women were, and how they knew Jess or April for that matter. "Are you..." Anna said suddenly, after taking a look at Lorelai. "You must be Jess' mom and sister, although he didn't mention having another sister-hard to wrap my brain around all at once. He would be related to both you and April, but you wouldn't be related to each other, right?" At the flummoxed expressions before her, Anna backpedaled. "We can figure all that out later. I am so sorry. I had hoped to meet you at some point in all this mess."

"OK, wow...whoa there," Lorelai said, nearly choking on her pie. "I'm not Jess' mom. I'm Luke's fiancee, but most certainly not Jess' mother. I mean the kid is starting to grow on me. Or the older version anyway, the younger version was moody and angsty and if he and Rory were siblings that would introduce a whole new level of screwed up we don't even wanna talk about…" Lorelai rambled on. "Wait, sister? Since when does Jess have a sister?"

"Mom…" Rory interrupted Lorelai. "Stop talking, please. I'll explain later."

Jess and April walked in from the cold.

"Jess," Rory smiled awkwardly, greeting him. "Anna was just-"

Jess brushed past as if he neither saw nor heard her, walking straight up stairs.

As they heard the door from the second-floor slam, Lorelai pasted on a forced smile. "And that would be a flashback to moody and angsty…" she blinked at the far wall for a moment, raising her coffee cup and hiding her expression behind it. "You can see why I wasn't a fan."

Her words clearly tried to be light and diffuse the situation, but Anna wasn't sure how to take them.

"Did I do something wrong?" April asked with a look of concern. "He asked how I found him, and I told him. And I said I hoped he wasn't mad, and he didn't say anything."

"No," Anna pulled April into a quick hug, trying to reassure her. "No, you did nothing wrong; but go to the car, sweetie. I'll meet you there in a little bit."

"Okay," the word was an echo, with her empty eyes, and Anna knew there would be a lot of damage control involved in the next few hours.

"I'm sorry," she looked at a flabbergasted Luke. "I'm so sorry. Can I go talk to him? He deserves that."

"Let him be," Luke answered softly. "I'll talk to him later. But what am I am walking into?"

"She found a court document that goes back to '91."

Luke swallowed, nodded his head, "Give him more than a day."

Anna turned to leave.

"But don't stay away."

She looked back, smiled deliberately-though it didn't reach her eyes-nodded, and then turned once again and walked out the door.

________

It was late. Jess sat on the footbridge shivering. With a cigarette in hand, he breathed in the freezing air and slowly exhaled. He thought he should be angry, possibly livid.

Instead, he was filled with apathy and numbness-some from the cold, some from the bottle of gin he was drinking, and some from the thoughts that had already been circling ceaselessly in his head combined with the new questions that had begun to plague him after talking to April. Not caring would be so much easier. Ignoring April would be easier. But he was in this, probably over his head, but in nevertheless. Because, after today, with the contrary fidelity of his own mind, there was no way he was walking out on this kid; and there was probably no way that April...the fact of her or the odd little personage of her...was ever going to go away.

He took a swig of gin and swallowed. With the warm burn of it going down his throat, he remembered the first time he had a drink-he'd done it in front of Liz to see if she would notice or care. She hadn't, no matter how much he forced down, one after the other; and he spent the night puking. Anna would have gotten mad, she would have stopped him. She would have given him a lecture about underage drinking. He took a drag of his cigarette-she would have put a stop to that too, and made sure it stuck. He didn't know her that well, but already he was sure of it. She'd grounded April, not just for contacting strangers, but for crossing social boundaries... helping her to understand that you can alienate people around you by not taking their feelings into account. Did April have any idea how lucky she was? He doubted it. Children usually don't.

He hated the look she gave him that afternoon. Even if Anna was going to pick up the pieces later. It didn't matter that Anna told him April needed to hear the truth about her father, he hated the lost look April had in her eyes. Mostly because he recognized it. He understood the basic need to know where you came from.

April was lucky to have a mother who consciously provided her a soft place to land. Where was his own soft place? His sanctuary when life was too much?

His mother? She failed on all counts; and when she tried-too late-to be a parent to him, and couldn't, she just sent him away.

Luke? He tried. He pushed Jess in a lake when he was being a punk and stole his car to keep him in school. Luke had only ever wanted good things for Jess. He tried. He really did. In some ways, it was all he could have asked for; and in other ways, it just wasn't enough. Because as much as Luke was his guardian, he hadn't been there to guard him against some of the things that caused the most damage. He wasn't what Lorelai was to Rory, or what Anna was to April. And his presence...his being...couldn't answer the basic questions that only a parent can answer for a child. They didn't contextualize his identity or make the world make sense.

"You are way stronger than that and I don't even want to hear it." Rory words echoed in a distant memory.

He picked up a stray rock, flinging it with a harsh snap of the wrist into the pond below. "Shut up." It sliced through the thin film of ice forming on the water and sank, refusing to skip properly or to make the appropriate, metaphorical crisscrossing ripples...which was an ugly metaphor in itself. "Sometimes I've got a goddamn right to be Kurt Cobainy," he muttered to the air.

He didn't notice her until she sat down next to him, and he had no idea if she'd heard him cursing at her former self.

"Hi," she said, softly. "Is it okay that I'm here?"

Jess looked up at Rory, "Yeah," he whispered.

"It's supposed to dip down to twenty degrees tonight, let's go inside."

"I'm good for now," he answered, teeth chattering as he fought off a shiver from the chilling air.

"Yeah, I can see that," she said, eyebrow raised.

She reached for the bottle in his hand, "Gin? How cliche for a writer."

"Yeah, well, Faulkner and Fitzgerald would be proud; and I didn't have anything to make a mojito."

"Jess come on, let's get you up and to bed, and you can sleep it off."

"I'm not drunk," he said holding up the mostly full bottle. "I'd like to be. I just don't really like the taste of gin. It tastes like Christmas trees."

"That's because you have the cheap stuff," she helped him up, took the bottle out of his hand and poured the clear liquid onto the surface of the pond. "You don't need that."

"The fish are gonna be hungover in the morning."

"Well, they can take an aspirin."

She steered him toward the diner, "You wanna tell me what this is all about?" Rory asked as they walked toward town.

He didn't say anything for a minute while he used the key above the door and unlocked the diner.

"I know how April found me," he finally said when they were upstairs. Rory started boiling water because Jess looked like he needed to drink something warm, and she knew he liked tea with enough honey and milk to mask the bitterness of the tea.

"Okay…" she said, trying to nudge him on.

"It was the same year Liz left Barry," he said ignoring her prompt, sitting at the table. "I just remember Luke showing up in the middle of the night so we could move."

"That must have been... disorienting. Maybe scary. How old were you when all this happened?" Maybe if she could keep him talking, the fragments would start coming together.

"Six... maybe seven."

Rory closed her eyes for a minute, glad that the tea making gave her an excuse to keep her back to him. He might shut down completely if he saw the expression of dread on her face, realizing that things had to have been bad for Luke to be helping them secretly move in the middle of the night. But, he was talking, not withdrawn, not lashing out at anyone or hiding behind sarcasm. He wanted to talk, and as long as he continued, Rory would stand as still as possible to listen.

"She was looking for anyone with the last name Mariano, trying to find Jimmy...just a random documents search... and..." he trailed off.

"What?" Rory turned toward him and spoke the question as softly as if she were trying to coax a woodland creature, fervently hoping her voice wouldn't frighten it away.

"She f…" He seemed to choke on words, squinting as if he couldn't accept them or force their taste upon his tongue. When they finally came, they were uttered slowly and in a soft bass. "She...found a restraining order. That's where she… that's where she first saw my name." There was a desperation and pained panic in his eyes before they cast themselves downward, looking hollow and tired.

"I don't even remember…" he shook his head, trying to put words to what it was he couldn't remember. "H...ow… how can that be…? That I don't even remember?"

She tried to come up with words...something...she must be able to say something. Rory stared at the floor, past Jess' left leg that sprawled out in a helpless kind of way from the rest of him...and it occurred to her that she was in no position, really, to offer anything other than an empathetic ear. Surely, her own mother had run away with her when she was too small to remember. But the situations' similarities ended there. She could hardly imagine what it would be like to have that kind of harrowing twist added to your self-narrative.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." Jess paused as his voice began to rise.

"Do you want me to go?" she asked softly.

"No. Stay. Talk about anything else; because I can't think about this anymore."

"Okay," Rory paused, searching for a subject that best respected his request. "I brought over a few box of books for us to look through."

"Really?" he said, eyebrows raised in relief at such a beautiful prospect... the perfect distraction.

"The book your author ripped off is in one of them, I'm almost sure of it," she said, putting a cup of tea in front of him.

Silently, they each opened a box and began lifting one volume after another, leafing through the pages. Jess realized why these particular books were likely stored together, as they sifted through the tangle of words their margin note dialogues had once become. As their eyes landed and skimmed and plummeted deep, only to emerge again, the air thickened in a way that wasn't unpleasant, but was probably dangerous-and was only rendered more so by an intermittent intake of air, as a particularly poignant barb pierced into the past. At some point, Jess turned on his CD player to an old Sonic Youth CD. Perhaps it did nothing to lessen the nostalgia; but at the very least, it drowned out the audible evidence of any effect it might have been working upon either of them...and shattered the whispering silence haunted only by the fluttering of pages.

"This might be it..." he said, breaking the bubble they'd created.

She looked up from what she was reading to sit closer to him.

He flipped through the pages, scanning, nodding his head as he did so. "Jeez…" he scoffed, nodding turned to a shaking of the head, "it's not just quotes and broad themes. Now that I'm remembering the story, it's practically the whole thing. Change continents, genders, races, and it's the same story."

When finally he landed on page 12, and saw faded pencil that had traced the poetic outline of a quixotic wisp of a girl with eyes that softly glowed as moonstone, the curve of her cheeks a delicate velvet like the petals of a rose, jaw line drawing inward to the timid chin of a child of five… he was unsure whether to blush beet red or gag. He remembered it as being far more eloquent, and less...syrupy sappy.

In blue in the words below were the written equivalent of a stuck out tongue: "Suck up."

"As you can see, I prophesied the novelist in you even then," Rory smirked.

"Erm...more like calling out the hack," Jess rolled his eyes, setting back to the task at hand with a bitten lip and the further turning of pages.

He shook his head in disbelief setting the book on the table."You know, if Ellen Taylor had actually written the novel she set out to write-the one inspired by, rather than ripped off of an international bestseller, it could have been great. Heck, I wish I'd thought of it; 'cause I'd feel like a blithering idiotic ripping off a plagiarized manuscript; but the actual idea of flipping the concept on its ear and telling a story that challenges people's concepts of the U.S. government by telling a revisionist history of the Japanese internment camps...kind of brilliant…"

Rory blinked rapidly as if clearing her vision. "Hold on a sec-I'm seeing flashes of Luke ranting and railing about literature, and it's a little disorienting."

Jess dropped her a deadpan glare that did nothing for his case.

"Sorry," she laughed. "Yeah, you're right. It could have really been something. She's talented, that's for sure, but you could feel the shift back and forth between the parts that she actually wrote and the parts she pilfered from the original."

"Thank you." he looked up at her. "I was beginning to think I was crazy reading, having already read a book that's never made it to print-feeling as if I'd already written commentary on words I couldn't physically have seen before."

"So what does that mean for you guys?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

"It's mostly up to Matt but...we can't publish her book, that's a given. I won't have to go to Massachusetts next week." He breathed a frustrated sigh. "Which also means your mother wasted her time on my suit."

"That's right-she wanted me to tell you to be there tomorrow around three."

Jess closed his eyes, "I really don't want to. Your mom has been really great and all...I just.."

Rory raised, her eyebrow at him, "After Anna and April left, we-Luke and I-filled mom in," Rory started. "She won't ask any questions about April if that's what you're worried about. She's been coming home from a long day at the Inn every day to work on your jacket and pants, and you need to be there at three. It will be a waste of her time if you blow her off."

"Okay," he said, catching the rise in her voice when she got excited. "I'll be there."

"Good. And don't be late." She got up from the table and rinsed her coffee cup out. "Speaking of," she sighed, consulting her phone. "It's late and I should go."

"Thank you," he said. "You know... for not letting me freeze."

Rory's eyes softened, and her eyes flitted down before meeting his again, more gently. "...Anytime."


	16. His Uncle's Nephew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of domestic violence

" _One person's craziness is another person's reality."_

―  _ **Tim Burton**_

The next morning, Jess woke to a rhythmic throbbing in his temples, his chest felt tight, and he was sure his head was floating above his body. He threw the covers off because he was hot, then cold, then hot, then shivering.

"You look awful," Luke said when he came upstairs after the usual morning rush.

"I'm just peachy," he rasped and then coughed.

"I can see that." Luke stuffed a thermometer in his nephew's mouth. "You wouldn't sound like a ninety-year-old man if you didn't smoke like a chimney."

Jess glared and barely restrained himself from trying to talk around the glass stick being held unceremoniously beneath his tongue. "And with that public service announcement, I'm going back to bed," Jess said while Luke squinted at the red line and tiny black tally marks.

"Here, take this," Luke said, handing him Tylenol and water.

The order was met with a glare.

"103. It's Tylenol or getting dragged to the E.R. unless you want to start burning out brain cells."

Jess sighed heavily, but swallowed the pills sans liquid and pulled the covers over his head. "Can you tell Lorelai I'm not coming?" Jess asked from under the covers.

"She's downstairs now."

Luke shut the door behind him as Jess vaguely wondered whether that meant Luke was agreeing or refusing to deliver his message. While pondering this, he fell back asleep.

His dreams were a confusing, fever induced hallucination with Jimmy, Liz, and Anna...and a test tube the three of them kept passing around and addressing as April 2nd, 1991. After a game of hot-potato with the test tube, Anna began to berate Jimmy and Liz for refusing to buy a pink bicycle helmet. - _Just let me see it for a second,_  Jimmy protested, reaching for the cylinder. -Anna pulled away just as he swiped at it, and there was the sound of breaking glass.

Jess woke with a start and saw that it was past noon. He breathed deeply, deliberately attempting to slow his racing pulse, the content of the dream blurring and fading into nonsensical impressions.

"Good, you're awake," Luke said, coming in a few minutes later. "Do you want something to eat? I made soup."

"You don't have to take care of me," Jess rasped out.

"I'm not," he said, bringing a bowl over to Jess. "Drink the tea, it's good for your throat."

"That's not ' _not_  taking care of me.'" Jess pointed out, dully.

"I made chicken soup for the special today," Luke defended.

Jess shot him a look but said nothing.

Luke handed Jess the hot tea and a bowl of soup on a metal tray.

"I'm not bedridden," Jess grumbled, setting the tray on the floor so that he could untangle himself from the bedclothes before picking it up and shuffling to the table.

Luke tidied the kitchen while Jess ate. "Do you want to talk about last night?" Luke asked.

Past and present converged as Jess' fevered brain righted itself. "Not really," he mumbled. "There isn't much to talk about."

"You don't have any questions? " Luke asked. "Your mom and I tried…"

"The sad thing is," Jess interrupted, "that I'm not even a little surprised. You would think I would be, but I'm not." Jess put his head in his hands, hoping his headache wouldn't return. After a long silence, mulling over the nauseating truths his new sister had unearthed, he turned to Luke, "It was when Barry left wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Luke confirmed, sitting at the table, his gaze fixed on a cabinet on the opposite wall.

After a long interim of staring into space, lightheaded, his eyes landed somewhere along the wood grain of the wainscotting. Jess' mouth opened. "What'd he do?"

Luke exhaled a leaden sigh and shook his head, as if he didn't altogether have an answer. "She called me one night in tears, 'cause they got in a fight and he punched the wall…." Luke glanced up, his eyes searching Jess' face, as if determining whether he was in any shape to hear this. His gaze shifted to the table, and he continued. "She said he'd done it before, and I told her to get  _out_  of there before he started punching more than the walls."

Jess bit his lower lip, exhaling with a bitter derision.

"But, you know Liz," Luke said ruefully. "One second she hates his guts and he scared her, and the next she's sayin' what a great guy he is, and that he really loves her, and he's not like that, swearing up and down that he had never hit her and never would." Luke shrugged. "She only figured out what a loser he was when she found out he had a girlfriend in another county."

Jess tightened his jaw and rolled his eyes, "Same old story."

"When she called him on it, he started making threats so she wouldn't leave...really scared her."

Luke paused, seeing Jess' eyes close painfully. "

"It took some convincing to get her to see that it was more dangerous to stay."

Nodding at the floor was all Jess did in response.

"He worked a night shift; so I came and helped your mom move stuff to a storage unit, get a cheap hotel where we could stay till we could get you guys an apartment; and while you were in school, we went to the courthouse and filed the paperwork for a divorce and a restraining order."

Jess nodded lightly and silence filled the room while he processed Luke's information. "I don't remember any of this."

"You weren't even seven."

Jess stared into his bowl of soup for a long time as his headache returned, likely not from the flu.

"She's gonna get hurt…" Jess finally croaked. "April," he specified in response to Luke's puzzled expression. "She's twelve and she's standing on a landmine and doesn't even know it. There is no telling what Jimmy is going to do. But he  _doesn't_ want to  _be her dad…_ " Jess' throat, suddenly dry and cracked, refused to carry his words until he swallowed, even then causing his voice to come only with concerted effort. " _Whatever_ he does, she is going to be crushed in the process...she won't ever be the same again."

Luke's gradual unscowling showed he'd begun to catch up to the shift in topic. He frowned again. "I thought you said Jimmy had a wife and stepdaughter...had gotten his life more or less together. I'm certainly not his biggest fan, but he  _did_  take you in when you went to California. And you're still in contact with each other at least, right?"

"Yeah, we are. He's not a  _horrible monster_. It's not like he was  _Barry_. I was only there a few months, and I had long ago given up hope of a parent  _guiding_  me," Jess answered. He peered downward, eyebrows worrying into a crinkled line. "What if he does nothing? What if he doesn't even  _acknowledge_  her?"

"I guess that would be the worst case scenario," Luke answered.

"I had to  _beg_  him to let me stay," Jess admitted. "I wasn't exactly the  _prodigal son_  returning to his father's  _open arms."_

Luke nodded while he continued, though his lips tightened bitterly.

"He took me to an  _AA_  meeting. So he could check it off some list. Quit drinking, check. Find son you abandoned, and ' _make up for it'_...gold star."

Luke clenched his jaw. "Unbelievable…" He only mumbled the word, but his voice quivered with anger.

"Anna didn't even bother to  _tell him_  he had a kid! So what did he  _do to her_  that she didn't think it was  _necessary_  to mention she was having his baby?"

Luke held up a hand, to halt Jess' spin-out. "You  _do_  know that you have the option to walk away from this, right?  _This_ is  _his responsibility-not_ yours.  _You_ don't have to deal with this. That man has done  _enough damage_ to you already," Luke continued, bristling on Jess' behalf.

Jess stared at the table. "How could I? She's a little kid," he said in a voice just above a whisper. "No one else knows what it's like...having Jimmy Mariano as a father."

Luke took a breath. "For a guy who has had a sister for less than two months, you sure sound like a  _bona fide_  older brother."

Jess made a stifled scoffing noise, gaze averted, lest the scoffing be contradicted by the raw emotion in his eyes.

"I get what it feels like to know there's someone who is  _going_  to destroy your sister...and there's not a whole lot you can do about it. I mean, that's...how it was with Barry and Art," Luke explained, leaning toward Jess, an earnestness in his eyes.

"What about Joe?" Jess added, sorely.

"Joe, too?" Luke questioned in mild disbelief.

"He might have been the worst," Jess mumbled. "They used to get high on the roof of our apartment and have screaming matches for the whole neighborhood to hear."

A brief, puffed out sigh accompanied the shaking of Luke's head. "My point is, they all crushed Liz. And you're right, April might find that Jimmy is  _never_  going be 'father of the year.' But she does have  _you_ ; and in the long run, both of you might find out that's more important-having each other-than who  _either_  of your parents are."

Jess shrugged, pondering the matter. "She's not ready to make contact with him yet...but she will be."

"And when she is, you be there to protect her. You make sure any damage Jimmy does, you're there with her picking up the pieces...helping her be strong."

"You did that for Liz..." Jess said as a statement, not a question.

"As much as she would let me; but she was practically an adult when our dad died. There was only so much I could do." Luke paused for a moment. "But I promised our dad I would look out for her...and you."

Jess let his head drop slightly. Only recently had he realized to a meaningful degree how long  _Luke_  had cared about him. It was strange and oddly painful to think he had a grandfather he couldn't even remember who had cared...worried about him and his mom.

"Speaking of Liz," Luke continued. "Have you told  _her_  about April?"

"Tell her what?" Jess asked, shrugging widely.

"That you have a  _sister_. That this girl  _found_  you…?" Luke suggested, emphatically.

"April has nothing to  _do_  with Liz. Besides which, Liz isn't even in  _town_ ," he pointed out.

"No, she isn't. But April isn't going away. And the more people who know that  _she exists_  before your mother finds out, the more she's going to yell at you about it."

"Yeah?  _So?_ Wouldn't be the first time. Just because she screeches doesn't  _make it_  her business."

Luke pursed his lips together, trying to find the words to respond.

Jess groaned. "I know. I  _know_. It's just… I know exactly what Liz is going to say, and I don't want to hear it and neither should April. She  _really_  doesn't need to hear Liz's diatribe about her loser ex-husband, or the warnings not to  _end up 'just like him_ ,'" Jess air quoted.

"Yeah," Luke said, nodding. "Okay, just don't...outright lie to your mom."

"I won't. I'm not. I haven't." Jess blinked exaggeratedly. He was always between a rock and a hard place...especially with Liz.

Luke sighed, looking up at the clock. "I've...gotta get down there. Are you…are we…?" Luke had that overly concerned look on his face again.

Jess tipped his head in a partial nod. "I'm good."

"Okay," Luke breathed as he stood up from the table, making a single hammering motion in the air, which Jess had learned to recognize as his uncle's way of assuring himself that he had discharged some responsibility as fully as he was able. He turned to leave.

"Hey," Jess stopped him, an unwanted hitch in his voice. "Were we ever in any real danger? I...don't remember a whole lot about him, but I don't think Barry was ever  _violent_...like...towards a  _person..._ at least when I was around."

Luke turned around slowly and stared at Jess. "Your mom didn't seem to think so. I wasn't so sure." He swallowed. "Have you or your mom seen or heard from him since?" Luke asked.

"Not that I know of," Jess answered.

"Then maybe she was right or maybe I was. Either way, he got the message."

Jess' eyebrows drew together quizzically.

"When I served him the divorce papers and the restraining order, I told him in  _no uncertain terms_  that the order was not a  _suggestion_ , and if he violated it, he better  _hope_  the cops found him first because he would be a lot  _safer_  in jail. I also made sure he wouldn't forget that laying one finger on you was definitely included in that."

Luke paused for a moment as Jess' eyes widened.

"Finish your tea and get some rest so you feel better."

No words...just a hollow nodding. Jess picked up the cup of tea and watched his uncle leave the room.

* * *

By Tuesday, the worst of his flu symptoms passed.

"You're kidding!" Matt exclaimed over the phone when Jess told him about Ellen Taylor's manuscript.

"Nope. She swapped the pronouns, made the May/December romance legal, and set the story in the U.S.; but pretty much everything else is the same."

"That takes a lot of nerve," Matt sighed. "Okay, well, scratch that meeting off your list."

"I figured."

"Hey, uh, you're still planning on being back Saturday right?"

"Right."

"How are things with Ed? Are you guys going to be finished?"

"I doubt it. He's canceled on me since last Thursday. He gave me whatever nasty flu he had."

"Okay," Matt said as if deep in thought. "I'll try to get ahold of his brother. It's not a big deal though. A full line edit is a lot of work. He's paying a lot for our services, and there is no need to rush when there isn't an impending deadline. Plus, we are publishing an author who walked away from a huge contract with a bigger house because we are able to provide something they wouldn't. We  _need_  more authors like him; so take the time you need to do it right. I know your classes start soon, but is it possible to still get there?"

"I get out of class early on Thursdays. We could have Fridays and Saturdays and I could always drive home on Sunday," Jess suggested.

"I'll adjust the schedule so you have Sunday and Monday off."

"That's fine. I've been doing that anyway."

"There's something else," Matt started. "I talked to my dad. He knows that Ben and Drew left us short-handed and that you were mine and Chris' pick to replace them. He wants to meet you. It makes him think he has some sort of veto power. Which he does, technically, just not without a huge fight. Plus, I told him you prevented us from making a catastrophic mistake; and there is  _nothing_  that makes him happier than avoiding lawsuits."

"Alright," Jess responded, tapping one finger nervously on the cover of the book in his hand, "when?"

"At the New York Young Writers Annual Gala Fundraiser, this Thursday."

"Now  _you're_  kidding…" Jess deadpanned.

"Nope, and it's black tie optional, so get ready to 'put on the Ritz'."

Jess groaned. "Is it plus-one required? 'Cause, you usually take Megan to these things, right?"

Matt was silent on the other end of the line for a full three seconds. "Not since she cheated on me over Thanksgiving," he answered with bitter sadness.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know."

"Don't worry about it," Matt answered, abruptly. "Neither did I until this weekend when she sent me an email."

"Sorry, man..."

" _And_  time for a new topic," Matt drew in a deep breath. "No plus-one requirement, by the way. I know the whole thing sucks. On the upside, Chris and I have a bunch of meetings on Friday, and a poetry reading Friday night; so, you'll have the day to yourself, and the hotel has an amazing free breakfast. We'll go to the Gala, meet my father, and after we have stayed an appropriate amount of time, we'll go to a bar in Brooklyn that caters to nerds like us."

Jess could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I'll have the shot of whiskey I usually need after being around my father and then drink away the sorrows of my cheating girlfriend."

"I can't get out of this can I?"

"No," Matt said flatly.

"Okay then. I'll see you in New York."

"Chris has the hotel for the week; so you can go whenever you want, as long as you are there and ready by Thursday at 7pm."

"Okay."

After he hung up with Matt, Jess fumbled the phone in his hand, hesitating... and then dialed Anna. Part of him hoped she wouldn't pick up and he could hang up without even leaving a message. But the part of him that had forced his fingers to dial the number in the first place, really needed, once and for all, to get answers to the half a million questions that had been spinning in his mind ever since April showed up in his life.

"Hello?" Anna answered; and he mentally cursed his obedient, number dialing fingers.

"Anna, Hi." His stupid voice actually  _cracked._ What was he, a fourteen-year-old calling up a girl for a date?

"Jess? Hi," she said, taken aback by the unexpected call.

"Are you...can we talk? Not now, but soon."

"Um...okay, yeah. You want to talk to me. That's good."

At least he wasn't the only one who was rambling. They were strangers, pretty much, right? It was quasi-normal to be awkward and nervous at the prospect of talking about potentially deep, probably personal stuff with almost complete strangers. For most people. It's an inherently nerve-wracking thing. Probably.

"Um...alone?" she asked.

"Yes, alone," he nodded with the phone to his ear, "alone would be...best." He swallowed. "Is Thursday okay? I'm leaving town a little early."

"Then I will see you... Thursday." It sounded like she was trying to sound eager...normal; though it came out as neither. "Just come to the house. Maybe text me first, so I know when to expect you. April will be at school till 4:30. She's got a club thing after class, so...any time before then is good."

"Okay...good. I'll see you then-text you, then see you. Alright, um...bye."

"Bye."

He hung up wanting a brick wall to slam his head into. Or a tongue removal so that no one would expect him to communicate verbally ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n I tried very hard to make sure to treat the subject matters in this story with great respect and had several long conversations with my beta about the topic of domestic violence and how to address it. If you feel that I have handled it poorly in any way, please contact me personally. On a lighter note...the next chapter is lots of Lit fun!


	17. No Rebel, No Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this chapter! I hope you have fun reading it! It's possibly one of my favorites. Reviews are coffee to the soul!

" _We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."_

―  _ **Anaïs Nin**_

On Wednesday, Lorelai overheard Jess tell Luke he was leaving the next day.

"Were you going to get your suit?" she asked. "The pants are done, but I still need to work on the jacket."

"Crap," he muttered, mildly panicked, hoping Lorelai wouldn't notice. "I have to. I need it Thursday night."

"Luckily, I have time this afternoon to work on your jacket," she assured him. "It'll be finished."

"For what?" Rory asked, sitting next to her mom at the counter. "I thought your big meeting was canceled."

"Matt is making me go to a gala fundraiser," he admitted around a mouthful of blueberry pancakes, partially shielding the visual of his rudeness with one hand.

Lorelai and Rory exchanged a look.

"Don't," he said the second Rory looked like she was going to say something, "I know what you're going to say."

"I wasn't going to  _say_  anything," she said, as an impish grin played at her lips.

"Right, sure, because you  _are_  best known for holding your tongue," he rolled his eyes. "Are you  _sure_  you have time to do this on such short notice?" he asked Lorelai, a touch of concern coloring his voice in a way he wished it wouldn't.

"Don't worry about it," she answered, still trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile.

"I guess I will be over in the morning, then; if that works for you," he checked as almost an afterthought. When Lorelai had agreed, he glanced over at the clock. "I should go pack." He hastily bussed his own spot at the counter, grabbed his coffee, and went upstairs.

"He looks better," Lorelai commented after he had been gone a few moments. "Not quite so deer-in-the-headlights, like he was when April was here."

"Since when do you take stock of Jess' well-being?" Rory asked her mom with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't," she shrugged. "Just an observation. He was upset the last time I saw him, he doesn't look that way at the moment, any person can make an observation."

"Right," Rory's mouth curled into a half smile. "You should just admit that he's grown on you."

Lorelai dropped her daughter a look that groaned of its own accord. "Like a fungus," she admitted.

"All slimy and brownish-green?" Rory inquired with a detached curiosity.

"You read my mind…" The words slid off her tongue like whiskey infused honey.

It wasn't as if she and Jess ever were, or ever would be bosom buddies. But she couldn't help but feel for the guy she once thought of as the scurge of the universe. Rory and Luke had explained how this girl popped up out of nowhere and threw a wrench into his previously known world reality. Not that his immediate family history had been rosy, from what little she'd pieced together since Luke first told her about the heretofore unspoken of the nephew who would shortly be bombing his way into their sleepy little town. Still, no matter who your family is, or how much you can't stand them, they tend to be a relatively static, linear, known quantity. Having siblings suddenly pop into existence, half-grown - once you've finally gotten your own mess more or less together in that time period laughably known as adulthood, after you spent your entire hellish childhood as an  _only_ child - had to be a little like having gravity suddenly work sideways instead of up and down, and having people tell you that it's been that way for years, except not to you.

At the same time, Jess was still Jess. No matter how much she occasionally felt like clawing her own eyeballs out backward over the fact that he seemed like her teenage self in another incarnation, they had a painful history. Or, at least, she had a painful history with him. She had to watch him crush two of the people she loved the most, and she had to watch it in slow motion. All of it was there in front of her from the day Luke picked him up at a bus stop, and from the day he first spray-painted his heinously overwrought, overwise, beatnik bull all over Rory's oh-so-carefully pristine pages, the excruciating, slothlike, floating through jello, screaming in space until your throat bleeds but you can't stop it because no one can hear you and no one can see it and everything you love is going to die and your other self is going to kill them and you can't stop it because it already happened...is already happening...  _AND_ already you can feel all of it breaking inside your own heart…. She saw the trajectory of it all from the start to the finish… And she didn't hate him because he was a bad kid… She hated him like you hate the face in the mirror and see all its blemishes in magnification... she hated him because every move he made and every expression on his face and tone of his voice reminded her of the damage she'd done, the people she'd hurt...and all of the mistakes her mother would never stop harping on. And he did. He left, just like she had; and he broke their hearts, just like she had. But he did it to Rory and Luke; and how could she forgive anybody who broke  _them?_ To do that, she would have had to be able to forgive herself.

But then, he'd been there on her doorstep...tail, humbly tucked between his legs, recognizing that she had been among those  _he_  hurt, and asking for forgiveness in a way she'd never been able to muster up the courage to do. And suddenly this incarnate blast from the past who had always been able to summon the ire that only the knowledge of self-hypocrisy can, had proven that he'd grown up...he'd found work that he had a passion for and stuck with it, working his way from entry-level and taking on responsibilities as quickly as he could prompt his employers to given them to him. And he seemed settled, content, not wishing he was anywhere but Stars Hollow. It was uncanny. But, as she had expressed to Luke shortly thereafter, perhaps somewhere along the line, life had required that he mature, and maybe he was finally done hurting people.

This incarnation of Jess Mariano was possibly one she could look in the mirror for once and own. It was just possible she could look him in the eye and see him for who they both were.

Maybe since he seemed to have found maturity, she could act like a grown-up now, and show a bit of empathy...a listening ear...a helping hand. Maybe she could even do it before she and the hoodlum formally became relatives.

* * *

"Hey," Lorelai greeted Jess the next morning.

"Morning," he said. "I thought you would want this," he smiled lightly, handing her a to-go mug from Luke's and a doughnut.

"Thanks," she said, taking the coffee in her hand and stepping aside so he could walk in the door. "Well, here it is," she said when they were in the kitchen. "Try it on. I need to make sure it fits," she indicated his newly altered suit with a wave of her hand.

Jess went to change as Lorelai sat at her table, finishing the coffee she already had and starting on the one Jess brought her.

"For a suit, you picked up at a thrift store, it's well made," Lorelai said when he reappeared. "Pants are good, and my goodness, I did an amazing job on that jacket!" She circled around him. "I have to finish putting the buttons on the sleeves," Lorelai explained, swallowing her coffee and threading a needle.

"So what's this party you have to go to?" she asked to fill the silence.

"It's fundraiser for The New York Writers' Summer Program. I've never even heard of them."

"Going to events like that is probably good for business, though."

'I guess," Jess shrugged. "I don't have a much a choice, but Matt promised me the day off tomorrow."

"Yeah," Lorelai sympathized, "charity fundraisers-usually not a lot of fun."

"Matt gets dragged to these kind of benefits and things by his dad all the time."

"Like...to fill his quota of seats on behalf of his  _own_  business, or…?"

"Oh, um...No. For, uh...For Truncheon. I'm... actually pretty sure Matt's dad owns more of Truncheon than Truncheon does, and he technically signs my paychecks. So, Matt goes to the city once a month to show his dad the books. He always comes back crabby."

"I feel his pain," Lorelai mumbled, with a safety-pin in her mouth as she worked.

"Evidently, I'm supposed to meet Daddy Warbucks at this event."

"Best of luck," she offered, pulling an apprehensive look as she secured one of the other pins. "How much of a gala is this?" Lorelai asked, looking up at him. "Black Tie? White Tie? Formal? Semi-Formal?"

"Uh, Matt said 'black tie optional' ...which is good ...because I haven't actually found a black tie to wear to this thing."

Lorelai almost choked on the first mentioned safety-pin before realizing that doing so was not only impolite but turned a safety-pin into an unsafety-pin. "'Black tie' doesn't refer to the color of the tie. Generally, a black tie event means a tuxedo," she explained.

Jess' face dropped.

"But you  _don't have to worry about that,"_ Lorelai hastened to reassure him, her voice rising several notes as she did so, " _be_ cause this is 'black tie  _optional..._  which makes this suit practically perfect." She nodded seriously at her own statement, though Jess still looked unconvinced.

"Okay, take it all off, mister-or rather, just the jacket, everything else stays,  _please_."

Jess handed her the garment with a slight smirk and a shake of the head, and she quickly finished sewing on the buttons.

"On again, please…" She walked around him clockwise one more time. "Stretch out your arms," she asked and nodded, satisfied.

"Is that it?" he asked.

"Yep, it fits perfect. You should be good for tonight," she said, completing the circle and looking at him straight on once more and smiling. "Wait, what's that?" she cringed, pointing to his shirt.

"This shirt is old...and the suit always covered it up before…" he answered, grimacing nervously after following her gaze to the stain he couldn't get out.

"Because it didn't fit," she finished for him. "Hang on." Lorelai disappeared upstairs and came back a few minutes later with a men's button down shirt that was creamy white and crisp.

"You just had that laying around?" he asked.

"I ordered these for my waiters' uniforms, but they require cuff links," Lorelai said handing him the shirt along with a small, gold box, "...which will give the ensemble a slightly more polished look,  _which_  for a gala...fits," she finished with a disarming smile.

Considering all the years she had been dragged to these kinds of events by her parents, she had built up quite a wealth of experience...useful information that she could pass on to someone. It made her wonder...who had been around to teach him...even how to tie a tie? Good grief, he probably thought that was all he  _needed_  to know!

God only knew whether he'd want to hear any of it from  _her_ , but… he was a fish out of water, a babe in the woods. She had to try to impart  _something._

"I've never understood it, beyond what Molly Brown told Leonardo DiCaprio; but at these things, for whatever reason, there a lot of forks," Lorelai said while he changed. "I mean, I know it's an 'Ooh, look how much silver rich people can afford, and you poor guttersnipe buffoons don't even know what fork to use' thing-but you'd think they could come up with something better for their silver and snobbery than forks," she said, talking to him through the door. "Anyway, just start from the one on the outside and work your way in. Also," she added, "you might want to eat beforehand. Usually, the food consists of tiny portions and  _very_ weird sauces-and I don't see you as a tiny-portion-weird-sauce kind of guy."

Opening the door, Jess looked at her with a raised eyebrow, as if he had been contemplating something. "Why are you doing this?"

"To save you from the sauce," she said as if no other reply were possible.

"No, I mean... _all_  of this," he frowned, gesturing around himself. "I don't get it."

Lorelai stopped talking and looked at him, "I'm sorry...what?"

"I mean, the suit, the shirt, the cufflinks, the...pointers...  _why?_ You're already  _with_  Luke, and it's not like he's even my  _guardian_  now _,_ so I know it's definitely not about him anymore; and it's not something you're doing for Rory, so... _why? What do you get out of this?"_ It was as if he was trying to look through her, holding her up to the light as one might hold up paper currency so that every detail and fiber was illuminated and stood in stark relief, scrutinizing to determine whether it was genuine or counterfeit.

"Again... _what?_

"I just…" he paused, licking his lips and holding them briefly pressed together, "what do I owe you?" he mumbled, abandoning his scrutiny just that quickly, apparently realizing that looking the metaphorical gift horse in the mouth was bound to lose him a place in Lorelai's good graces, whether or not such examination was warranted.

"You are  _unbelievable_ ," Lorelai's voice began to rise. " _Nothing!_  You owe me nothing. I was trying to help you out. I guess that was my mistake." She got up from the table with a look of indignation and disgust.

Jess stood frozen, trying to form words. "I just-"

"I have been up all night working on this, and you have the  _nerve_ … Did it occur to you at  _all_  that there are genuinely  _nice_  people in the world who do things to help others without being mercenary or manipulative? That just maybe I was trying,  _as I said,_ to  _help_ you?" Lorelai continued not letting him talk.

"You were...you  _are_ ," Jess stumbled, "and I really appreciate this...I just..I'm not..." he paused, searching for the right words.

"You're not what?" Lorelai demanded.

" _Used_ to-" his words withered and died there, and he put a hand to his forehead. " _Why_  would you help  _me_  without  _wanting_  something?" he mumbled unable to meet her eye.

"What would I possibly want,  _Jess?"_ she demanded. "I'm definitely not in it for the money you're  _not_  swimming in, last I checked. I'm not trying to get you to  _do_  anything, or-" Lorelai stopped, a strange scowl coming across her face as his words echoed back to her. "Wait, what did you mean: 'It's not about Luke  _anymore?'_  When would it have…?" Lorelai faded off, staring at him for a moment as if she was seeing him for the first time.

His eyes fell with a look of determination and defeat that willed her not to follow the train of thought to its destination.

Her voice turned hollow. "You  _really thought_  I was dating Luke the first night we met…" Lorelai said with uncertainty. "When you asked if I was sleeping with him, you actually...thought I  _was..._ or that I wanted to be _. Oh my God..._ "

Jess continued looking at the floor as if he were sinking into it. "Yeah."

"You thought I was trying to  _use_  you to get to him…" Lorelai put her head in her hand, her voice weak. "Had that happened to you before?"

She watched him squirm and realized that this was Jess Mariano she was talking to. There was no way he'd answer a question like that.

His eyes wandered in lost circles through the patterns of the floor, and he swallowed repeatedly, his vocal cords apparently not in proper working order. When they once again became semi-functional, he croaked a response. "I'd heard several different versions of  _the_   _talk,"_ he air quoted mirthlessly, "with varying levels of soft soap and flattery...which always came to an abrupt halt once they, uh...got what they wanted. The guys would promise that we could be a family and then leave soon after. Or, if they stuck around, once they had her," he shrugged, "as far as they were concerned, I didn't exist."

Lorelai's eyes closed with a suppressed shudder. Her thoughts swam with images of the angry kid who showed up in Stars Hollow and an echo of Liz's voice talking about the boyfriends and husbands she would or wouldn't want Jess to grow up and emulate.

 _How does that happen?_ Twenty-one years ago, in the hospital, if someone were to lay odds which one's kid would wind up broken and crushed, with defenses locked up tighter than Fort Knox and trust issues only Freud himself could sort out…would they pick the woman who was, well,  _not_  16? The one who was married? The one who didn't have a mother screaming at her while she was in labor? Who didn't have to call a taxi to get to the delivery room? Who, apparently, had a more-or-less trusting relationship with her two wonderful parents? Who had a husband and a father and a brother right there, ready to welcome this child into the world?

These were the  _reasons_  Lorelai had kept the guys she dated  _separate_  from Rory's life. It wasn't just a matter of her not getting  _attached_ , or not getting whipsawed around by the unsteadiness of her mother's love life. Those were important considerations, but there was also  _this_. It was one thing to find out some guy was a jerk and a manipulator and it was really time to stop dating him immediately, if not sooner-and another thing altogether to let some jerk manipulate your  _kid_...make your child a  _pawn_  in their sexual advances or relationship schemes.

It had been bad enough when Christopher had cared more about trying to rekindle old romance than bond with his daughter. There were times even  _that_  level of manipulation and unpredictability had seriously screwed with Rory's head. She couldn't even imagine-didn't  _want_  to imagine-the mess Rory may have become if she'd been exposed to that kind of thing with a long string of guys.

No wonder Jess had been  _such_  an angry teenager… The acting out, the running away...maybe they weren't only the manifestation of a kid angry at the world and trying to get revenge. Maybe it wasn't a typical teenage  _attitude problem_. Maybe this whole time, Jess was the kid standing in the middle of the room, screaming at the top of his lungs, and no one was looking up, least of all the people who should.

Lorelai  _thought_  she had known him. She saw the bad boy your mother warned you about with the cigarettes and the fighting and skipping school-the one who left everyone's heart in a sling because he just didn't care-the  _Rebel Without a Cause_  that her own teenage self could have very  _easily_  met one night after getting picked up by the police...who might have joined her in creating a momentarily cozy pseudo-family in abandoned mansions and after hours planetariums...who may have ended up swept along with her into the cross-hairs of a police shootout...who…

In a crazy way, he  _was_  that kid… and Lorelai had been terrified by the possibility of seeing her daughter mixed up in any of that… But that didn't mean that she should have let herself lose sight of the fact that, at the end of the day, neither Jim Stark nor Jess Mariano was a  _rebel_ , much less a criminal. He was...a child. Abandoned. Adrift. Frightened. Hurting. And blindly lashing out at the world.

She'd recognized that on that first night. But she let his defense mechanisms blind her...prejudice her… and even though she tried to be objective and empathetic and give him a fair chance for Rory's sake...she didn't really  _remember it_  until this moment.

"I didn't know all the circumstances around you being in Stars Hollow...that first night, but I… I saw a kid who was lost and lonely… and I just wanted you to feel  _welcome_."

"I deserved the pie you wanted to throw at me," Jess said, collecting his stuff to leave.

"Wait," Lorelai's eyes filled with tears, "I think I-"

"Thank goodness you're still here," Rory said bursting into the kitchen. "You will not believe the sale I just went to," Rory said, arms full of bags.

"What sale?" Lorelai asked, wiping a sleeve across her eyes and recovering quickly.

"McDowell's in New Haven is going out of business and they were having a clearance sale."

"McDowell's is a  _male_  clothing store," Lorelai said, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Well, then, it's particularly handy that Jess happens to be male because all this stuff's for him."

"What!" Jess exclaimed.

"I was getting coffee before I had to meet Paris because I always need coffee before meeting Paris, and there was this big 'going out of business' sale. I was just going to get you a new tie, but they just had some  _amazing_  stuff - I couldn't pass it up."

"Have you lost your  _mind?_ " he exclaimed.

Rory looked upward and around as if trying to peer into her own cranium. "Nope, I'm good. It's still there. Everything had to go."

"So they gave it all to  _you?_ " he said as she began to empty her bag and pull out clothes.

"This sweater," she said pulling out a gray pullover, "was 90% off. I got you one in black and dark green."

"You  _have_  lost it."

"I got you some button down shirts, one in blue, red, and black to go with the white one you already have; and a couple in stripes because they're  _very sharp,_ and I know you like them.."

"I do? They look like I should be working in Taylor's Ice Cream Shoppe," Jess grimaced.

"They won't when they're on under the jacket," Rory pointed out, patting the small pile.

"Okay,  _how_  do you know what  _size_  I wear?"

"Uh, I'm a Gilmore, it's our super power. Besides, I know your tailor."

While Rory and Jess were arguing in the kitchen, Luke came through the front door. "What's going on?" he asked Lorelai

"There was a sale," Lorelai said in explanation while Rory tried to explain the need for pocket squares to Jess.

"Oh no," Luke mumbled, taking in the scene. "A thousand percent off?"

"A thousand percent off," Lorelai confirmed.

"That tie is ugly," Jess said pointing at one of the many.

"It's a nice tie."

"I'm not wearing it. It's  _purple_."

"It's a manly mulberry."

"A  _manly mulberry?_ Now you're just making stuff up, and I am  _still_  not wearing it."

"But, it goes  _so_  well with the suit," she answered pulling out a three piece, wool, slender cut in a dark charcoal gray. "You need something to wear at graduation."

"I'm sorry, the  _what?"_ he screeched.

"They practically  _gave_  it me."

"Because they know a sucker when they  _see_  one." He stared at the thing. "This is  _way_ too formal for anything I'd need."

" _Not_  true. You've got big publisher fancy things to attend...thus, formal. And for regular business, you can wear  _just_  the vest with rolled up sleeves, no tie, open collar...makes you look professional, very literary, but casual-ish.  _Or_  you can wear  _just_ the jacket, no vest. Versatility, form, functionality."

"You have put  _waaaaaaay_ too much thought into this."

"Years of Friday night dinner experience. You learn to think in formal vs. semi-formal. Now go try it on," she said, pushing him, along with one of the garment bags into the bathroom.

"This stuff had to have cost a  _fortune,_ sale or no," he said through the door.

"The price tags were removed, not only out of politeness but because it would be humiliating to have you see how  _little_  I actually spent," she teased.

"Uh-huh,  _sure._ "

Jess tried to ignore the assessing and approving glances Lorelai and Rory were looking him up and down with from their perch next to Luke at the table.

"You have good taste," Lorelai said, in approval looking at Rory. "It fits good. I don't have to do any alterations on it; which, when it comes to cuffs especially, is nothing short of a miracle."

"Evidently, it's a new brand," Rory explained to her mother. "The sales guy compared it to  _Jimmy Au's._ "

"I'm  _not_  keeping it."

Lorelai nodded, impressed, ignoring Jess' declaration.

"All sales are final," Rory grinned.

"I don't  _need_  a second suit," he told her, firmly.

"You might. Think of it as an early graduation gift."

"Graduation?" Luke and Lorelai questioned at the same time.

"He's getting his AA," Rory excitedly answered.

"It's just an AA," Jess answered at the same time.

"Were you going to  _tell_  me?" Luke asked.

"When I knew it was happening for sure," he answered, not meeting his uncle's gaze.

"That's going to make you the first in this family to have a college degree," Luke started to say when Jess' phone rang.

"I have to take this," he said looking at his phone, interrupting what would have been Luke gushing.

While Jess was outside, Rory showed her mom the three sweaters, all the ties, a second sleek three piece in a chocolate brown-"Shh, I'll let him freak out about this one later. It was buy one, get one free. They're the same size; so if one fits, they both do"-and a reversible leather belt, black on one side, brown on the other. Everything was 85%-90% off."

"That's all you spent?" Lorelai exclaimed, looking at the receipt.

Rory glanced at her mother and nodded.

"The student has become the master," Lorelai said in mock reverence. "I gave him your cuff links," Lorelai addressed Luke. "Not the ones from your dad - the other ones."

Luke nodded slowly, a mix of shock and pride showing through. "He can have them," he answered absently, then seemed to wake to a realization, adding softly, "both pairs... Rory's right: early graduation gift."

"I should go," Jess said as soon as he stepped back in the room. "I have a few more stops before I drive into the city."

"I'll help you load your stuff," Rory said, performing the grand gesture of making sure everything was back in the bags.

"Two weeks, right?" Luke asked.

"Yeah," Jess answered, as he went to change out of a suit for the second time that morning.

"You should have dinner here when you're back in town," Lorelai said when he reappeared in his street clothes. "And take the hanger I had it on, it'll keep the suit from wrinkling before tonight."

Jess nodded, "Okay," he answered. "Thank you," he said, softly, emphasizing both words. "For every…" he stumbled over the word, "everything."

Lorelai pulled him into a quick hug, "Anytime, drive carefully. And remember the forks," she released him.

"Right," he nodded at her, a faint light in his eyes, "the forks."

She watched as he and Rory walked to his car with his stuff. She was sure he wanted to say more, but not in front of Rory or Luke. He didn't need to, she knew exactly what he meant.

Luke disappeared upstairs while Lorelai watched Jess and Rory from the window. She let the tears she held back from earlier fall freely.

Jess was twenty-one. She had very distinct memories of her own twenty-first year. She and Rory had lived in the potting shed behind the old Independence Inn. She had been promoted to head of the cleaning staff, but couldn't afford to rent her own place.

It was the year she started saving for the house she was standing in. It was the year she went and finally got her GED and started taking a few classes at the community college. It was the year she met Sookie and they became friends.

She wanted Rory to have her own room. She needed a space for her growing library. Eventually, they would outgrow their tiny home. It didn't matter how hard Lorelai worked to make it a warm, cozy,  _home-like_ home; she wanted more for her daughter. It drove her during her late nights folding linens and organizing the laundry room; and it drove her in the early mornings she spent at her sewing machine, altering thrift store bargains, rather than frequenting the boutiques and department store racks that had been the staples of her early adolescence, or picking a wardrobe from the shiny back-to-school racks for her eager kindergartener. She would often lay awake at night and mentally calculate how much she could put in savings towards a down payment so they could someday have their own place and still eat that week. She worked while Rory was at school and then walked to get her. Rory would sit in the dining room and do her homework while Lorelai finished working. She hadn't been in a relationship since Rory's father. She couldn't dream of committing to anyone but Rory.

Jess deserved better. He deserved to have had someone who put him first while he was growing up. Yet, at only twenty-one, he had pulled his life together.

Lorelai had been forced to pull herself up by the bootstraps and build a life at that age because she had a five-year-old who depended on her. In the same way, she had always assumed Luke had to grow up quicker than most because he had to take care of his dying father, and then was suddenly compelled to handle his father's estate and start running a business.

But, Jess...who or what put him on the fast track to responsibility? Or was this simply who Jess had always been? Once you stripped away the defense mechanisms that his background burdened and masked him with, had this been the real Jess all along?

If it was, Lorelai felt a bit cheated, even if she had no one to blame but herself -  _You'll see it eventually -_ a bit cheated because now that his defenses were down, she found she that quite enjoyed his company.


	18. 1-2-3 Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically how I worked out how all of this. 
> 
> I hope I am doing my job as the author to make you wonder about this...
> 
> TW: Discussion of Suicidal Thoughts

" _We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down."_

―  _Kurt Vonnegut_ _, If This Isn't Nice, What Is?: Advice for the Young_

" _Jess," Doris said patiently, "we have to talk about it eventually."_

" _Why? Shouldn't we cover my absent father again?" he offered in disgruntled sarcasm._

_Doris sat up in her chair, furrowed her brow and pursed her lips together._

_He exhaled and shifted, his words taking on the rigidity of his angled limbs, "I don't see the point in reliving it over and over again."_

" _It's why you're here," she said evenly._

"… _I just," Jess mumbled, covering his face and pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache. "It was dumb."_

" _What was?"_

" _The whole night. I shouldn't have left the house. I shouldn't have gotten out of bed that morning… or..."_

" _Or what?"_

"… _picked up the phone call from my mother," Jess finished, as the anger coursed through him. "And listened to her medicated ramble about how I'm not_ doing anything, so why can't I help Luke at the Renaissance Faire. Or that she almost died in that accident and I should want to be around her.

" _I think you need to start at the very beginning." Doris said slowly._

* * *

"You gotta let me pay for that stuff," Jess said as he and Rory walked out to his car.

"Nonsense. It's yours" she opened his passenger door and set the bags on the floor.

"You're very stubborn."

"Yes, I am. It's the  _mark_  of a Gilmore." Her words still swayed, as if strolling, even though her feet had come to a stop.

He wanted to ask her why she was being so nice to him but thought better of it after his conversation with Lorelai.

"I expect an invi _tation_  to your graduation."

"I have to pass all my classes first," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "And, same here. I really should...see you in cap and gown at some point." He mentally kicked himself for alluding to their past.

"You know," she said in a small voice, eyes tracing the curving line where their lawn met the driveway, "I wouldn't be starting classes if it weren't for you."

"That's not true. You had to already be wanting to go back, for what I said to make any difference."

She looked up at him and smiled, "I think you don't even come close... to understanding your own contribution here."

He kicked a rock, "You would have gone back to Yale eventually."

"I...I probably would have," she agreed with him. "But in the entire ordeal, you were the only person who asked me if  _I_  was okay. No one else did that." Rory shook her head, mouth flattening into a long, straight line that looked like a sad little girls. "Not my mom, or my grandparents, or anyone else. Everyone just saw the mistake, and expected that I would pick myself up and move on."

"Well…" he spoke, words hushed, "it's the least I could do for you."

Rory's eyes softened. They hadn't brought up any sort of past they shared in the two and a half weeks he had been in Stars Hollow. She half smiled, "You've always been a good friend to me."

He pursed his lips together, a near smile that hurt. "Better friend, than boyfriend."

The silence that followed wasn't strained. It wasn't fraught or full or desperate. It had a strange peace that knew no rhyme or reason.

"Rory, I didn't leave...because of you," Jess finally said. He always worried that she'd blamed herself somehow ...or didn't think she was good enough to stay for ...or, god forbid, that he was  _tired of her -_ the fear she gave voice to just before he shot their last night together straight to hell.

"And I didn't say no because I didn't want to be with you." The unspoken corollary - bookend on the other side of their communal heartbreak.

His eyes stung and there was a stone weight in the pit of his stomach. - _the word that had sent him spiraling_ \- She feared the damage she may have done just like he did.

"I'm sorry," he said weakly. "You deserved better. I wish I could have been what you needed. I wanted to be." His throat desperately required clearing, but it would have spoiled the sentiment, so he just got the words out the best he could. "It's lame and long overdue, but you needed to hear that from me."

"I like us as friends," she said looking up at him. Their eyes met. A thousand unspoken words passed between them.

"I do too..." He smiled at her. "I should go," he said, taking reluctant hold of his car door handle, but still unable to untangle his gaze from her own until the very last second. Deliberately, he fought the magnetic pull, averting his eyes while getting in his car. Just before closing the car door, he looked up at her again. "Thank you, you didn't have to, but thank you for everything."

Rory shrugged, "A girl can't pass up a good sale."

He waved lightly. "I guess not. I'll see you in a few weeks."

She nodded, smiling with closed lips.

As he was driving away, a rush of adrenaline and exhilaration coursed through his veins in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.  _Sunbeams. Feeling tipsy, drunk on air. Blindsided._ He wanted to turn around,  _beg_  her to take him back, on his knees if he had to. He was  _supposed_  to be over her. He was supposed to have left the past in the past! She wasn't supposed to pull him in, but she would always be able to; because he was Jess Mariano and she was Rory Gilmore; and no matter what he did, she would always have a hold on him.

* * *

" _What if I don't want to?" he asked stubbornly._

" _That's up to you, but I have to tell the judge whether or not you're making an effort in our sessions."_

_Jess was silent, him and Doris beginning a staring contest as they so often did. He drew in a breath, "Okay," and let it out slowly. "But I was a moron."_

" _I've been the moron a time or two as well. Next time it's my session I'll tell you all about it, but for now…" she tilted her head toward him expectantly._

_Jess closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He knew Doris was right. They had been skirting the topic for far too long._

" _I moved a week after my mother's wedding," he began. "I found an ad for someone looking for a new roommate. When I took a tour of the place, it was nice. We had opposite schedules, and I got a second job at a record store near Midtown. I figured, if I was busy, it would keep my mind off...other things "_

_Doris nodded taking notes._

" _His name was Adam and he was a decent guy. After a few weeks living together, he asked if I wanted to go see a concert at this really great club in my old neighborhood. I could never get in when I was younger because the bouncer knew Liz, and knew I had a fake ID."_

" _Ex?" Doris asked._

" _Friendly neighborhood pot dealer or one of his minions," Jess answered._

" _So a guy who would gladly sell a teenager pot, but wouldn't allow him into a place that sells alcohol. Perfectly reasonable," Doris mused._

" _Yeah," Jess agreed dryly._

" _Did the bouncer say something to you or your roommate; and that's who you punched?"_

" _I wish," Jess scoffed._

 _Doris blinked, confused. "Continue._ "

* * *

It's open," Anna yelled when Jess rang the doorbell. "Coffee?" she asked when he appeared at the doorway.

"Thanks, yes, please."

"Sit." Anna pointed at the kitchen table. "You're leaving early?"

"Yeah, I need to get into the city and run some errands," he answered, unshouldering his bag and setting it beneath the chair as he sat.

She handed him a mug, along with a ceramic Betty Boop coffee cup, which he looked at strangely for a moment.

"Cream? Sugar?" She asked, putting both on the table and sitting down.

"Thanks," he said, growing nervous.

"So?" she asked after preparing her own coffee.

"I should have handled things with April better the other day." He gripped the mug tightly at its base.

"We talked; she understands now," Anna reassured him.

Jess nodded, summoning the ability to voice the biggest missing piece of the puzzle that had bothered him since the day April found him...or at least an introduction to it. Silence filled the room as they both added cream and sugar to their coffee.

"Where did you meet him?" Jess asked, breaking the sound of that silence.

* * *

" _Adam's ex-roommate was at the club that night. He had told me a little about him. Not the nicest guy. He had lost his job and couldn't pay rent anymore. When he moved out, Adam wasn't sorry to see him go; but he still owed Adam money."_

_Doris paused, in her note-taking. "You and Adam tried to collect?"_

_Jess averted his eyes in shame, unable to look at Doris. "Not quite," he mumbled._

* * *

Anna stirred her coffee. "I met Jimmy at a coffee shop the summer I graduated from college."

"In...Connecticut?" Jess could hardly form the words.

"No, in Maine. He was working on a lobster boat. He would come in after being on the boat and get a coffee, then go home and come back a few hours later with a book and sit at a table reading until it was time for him to work again."

Jess drew in a deep breath. "Why did you keep April from him?"

"After he told me about the existence of a son he deserted, I couldn't see him as a man I would want in my life permanently. We dated through the summer, I left in August to go home, and by the time the stick turned pink, I realized that I would probably be doing this alone anyway..."

"...so you saved yourself the pain," Jess finished for her.

"Yeah," her mouth twitched and she held back a sob, but her eyes betrayed her. "And April. Mostly April."

* * *

_Adam didn't want to collect; he wanted to leave it alone and drop it," Jess admitted._

" _But it didn't_ get  _dropped? So then, what_ did  _happen?"_

" _I ...was an idiot…" he shrugged._

" _So you've said."_

" _I thought that I could convince the guy to give Adam back his money."_

" _Even though he wanted to drop it."_

_Jess nodded exaggeratedly. "The guy was like 6'2 and his muscles had muscles. He had a beer in his hand and empties on the table. I had no brain in my head!"_

" _And how did you think you were going to convince him, by hypnotic suggestion? Jedi mind tricks?" Doris queried._

" _No, I was gonna talk to him... I... me… the guy who couldn't string a sentence together and have a normal conversation with someone if my life depended on it, was going to TALK this guy into giving my roommate the money he owed. Because, apparently that night, I had convinced myself that I was a born diplomat."_

" _And you're sure you threw the first punch?"_

" _Very sure. It was continuing the no brain in my head routine. My smooth persuasion was completely lost on him and he threatened, in the most colorful language it has ever been my privilege to hear, to rip us both to tiny shreds - so, I hit him in the jaw.."_

" _I take it it wasn't a one round KO," Doris responded, the eyes behind her carefully serious expression, dancing._

" _Um... no," Jess responded with an almost choked sound. "He stood up and tried to break the chair he was sitting on over my head. Fortunately, I move quickly."_

" _Seeing as how you're still alive, I'd expect as much," Doris of the dancing eyes interjected._

" _I landed at least one more good punch in between being thrown around against the furniture and the walls."_

_Doris requested clarification. "How did it come about that you were able to shove him into the tables?"_

" _Momentum," he answered frankly. "I broke free and he was still moving. Just shoved him the way he was already headed. I was actually grateful when the bouncer broke it up. When he said he'd tear me to pieces, I'm not entirely convinced he was kidding!"_

" _And still,_ you  _were the only one charged in this altercation?"_

" _He managed to take off before the cops got there. Found out later he had a record and couldn't afford to get caught." Jess tipped his head to one side. "The owner wanted to press charges for the mess we made. I was arrested and spent the night in jail. When I got home the next day, Adam said I had the same kind of temper as his old roommate, my sparring partner, and he couldn't take living like that... always worried what your roommate's going to do next." Jess' face tightened grimly as he said that part. "So… I moved back to my mattress with the mold. Turned out they hadn't found a replacement for me yet, so…" he stared at the baseboard under Doris' desk, "that was that."_

" _Why were you the only one charged?" Does asked, ignoring for the moment the jarring implications of what he'd just said. "I mean, I know you said he took off; but you clearly weren't there fighting yourself."_

_He shook his head, blandly saddened. "They never found him or they didn't look...I'm not sure...and I didn't want to press charge's because it could've gone a lot worse for me if he wanted to do the same."_

_Doris drew a long, quiet breath as she glanced over the notes she'd been taking, along with the records besides them. "So," she asked, looking up over the top of her spectacles, "before you hit him, what were you thinking?"_

" _I thought I'd made it pretty clear that I wasn't," Jess glared at her without malice._

_Doris returned the glare in silence, clearly wanting a more expansive answer to her question._

_He relented. "I was thinking… that this guy was a jerk and that was the end of my thought process."_

_"And what do you think now… about what happened?"_

" _That I was an idiot to get involved in the first place," he told her candidly. "I...I meant what I said about knowing it can't happen again...maybe the guy had it coming...but still, there are better ways of handling things - aside from which… not my pig, not my barn."_

_Doris nodded as she wrote._

" _And Adam was wrong," Jess shook his head. "I_ don't _... have a violent temper..." Jess' voice began to shake. "I learned to fight to protect myself. Some of the neighborhoods I lived in growing up, self-defense was a basic survival skill. I've never just randomly blown my top and hurt somebody." Jess shook his head again, this time clearly trying to comprehend the fact that he had done just that. "And now...I guess I'm lucky they never went after him, and the DA was willing to drop some of the charges. The only conclusion I have come to is that, by all rights, this should be worse."_

" _They should have thrown the book at you?" Doris asked, one eyebrow raised from her notes._

 _Jess' shoulders hunched forward, and he pulled a face. "I mean, not that I_ wanted  _them to! Just…"_

_She looked up at him fully. "Even if what they did was standard procedure and a fairly standard penalty, they should have been harder on you specifically, is that it?"_

" _Well, not-" he began._

" _Because_ you  _knew better."_

" _I…"_

" _Because you_ are  _better, isn't that correct?"_

" _I don't mean that I think -"_

" _Because you ARE BETTER than that, and you KNOW it, and you can't STAND the fact that you stooped so low!" She looked at him intently. "Am I right?"_

* * *

He's clean now. He was sober for five years before I met him. He was active in AA."

"Really?" She smiled through her tears. "Wow...that's fan-freakin'-tastic." she snapped bitterly.

Jess looked at her quizzically. "You don't regret anything, even if Jimmy has managed to clean up his life…?"

"He wouldn't have done it for me or April," Anna said, shaking her head.

"He said that?" Jess questioned.

"He said that he wanted someone who would take him as he was."

Jess shook his head in disgust because that sounded like something Jimmy would say.  _I mean, hey, why bother with self-improvement, when you can soft soap and guilt trip people - make them think there's something wrong with them if they think there's something wrong with you?_

"He was an admitted drunk but refused any help. According to him, he wasn't an alcoholic because alcoholics go to meetings."

Jess rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Yeah, well… 'sober' or not, he still drinks beer; but he would have one… maybe two… 'under supervision'."

"Beer wasn't his problem, It was when he would start in on the tequila. The bad nights were when he would drink Rumple Minze or when he and his work buddies would drink reservoir dogs…"

"What?" Jess questioned.

"Red Bull and Bailey's."

"Sounds like a hangover, but okay," Jess commented.

"Oh, they were disgusting."

* * *

_So, why him? If you don't seek out altercations and you don't just 'go off,' then why did you seek him out, other than your friend's money? Why did you as good as pick a fight with someone twice your size who was all liquored up?" Doris questioned. She didn't allow him to hide behind himself. This had been a choice - even if it was a subconscious one, it was a choice._

_Jess diverted his eyes to the floor, wanting to find the right words to explain something he hadn't even been able to explain to himself._

" _It wasn't him specifically," Jess finally said after a long pause._

" _Okay," Doris nodded. "Then what was it? Why_ then _? Why_ there _? Why_ that particular  _provocation? Why go off on a complete stranger?"_

" _I don't know," Jess admitted. "I was hoping you would, though," he swallowed the lump in his throat._

" _You have the answer. I don't. It's in_ your  _head… We just have to find it."_

_Jess traced the outline of the couch deep in thought._

" _What was going on in your life? Doris prompted._

_Jess narrowed his eyes, "We've been over that ad nauseum."_

* * *

He bragged about how he could ' _beat AA_ ,' and he didn't have a DUI, and could hold down a job. Then we would go out; and by the end of the night, he'd be hammered and start feeling persecuted. He'd tell everyone to leave him alone... and then wonder why we all did." Anna paused, fighting back more tears. "I always said when she got older, I would make an attempt to find him...see if he was doing any better. His cousin was a good friend of mine, and every so often I'd ask how Jimmy was… where he was… and, when he knew, he'd tell me. So... I basically figured that when the time came, I'd be able to track him down…" she shrugged, attempting nonchalance, looking more hurt and defensive than anything, "you know, eventually."

Silence filled the room as Anna took a sip of her coffee. "I'm so sorry to have brought you into this. You have a life of your own, and April must have just turned everything upside down."

Jess sighed. "She didn't."

"You aren't obligated…"

"Stop saying that," Jess said in frustration. "I know I'm not obligated, yet here I am. I went to the science fair and the dinner she invited me to. I had no problem watching her at the diner and answering her questions. She may have thrown me for a moment; but did you ever stop to consider that I understand April? And understand why she did what she did? I'm not upset with her for finding me, or even how she did it. I mean,  _geez_ , it was only three years ago  _I_  was the kid traveling cross country to track him down and find out who my father really was."

Anna considered what Jess was saying. "I guess, maybe you're right. I hadn't thought about it that way - that you've been in her shoes. That's strange for me," she admitted. "I'm used to being the one who understands what she thinks and what she feels."

* * *

_I was a week back from walking 'mommy dearest' down the aisle to her fourth loser husband, in front of the town that wanted me run out on a rail, so that I could prove to Luke and to myself that I wasn't some punk ass kid who_ hated  _his mother, even if chances were 80/20 at best that she'd be high as a kite and the whole town would be proven right about me._

" _I told Luke I was gonna give him money to make up for all the crap I gave him. I watched him dance with the woman of his dreams, and thought about all the ways I was going to show Rory I cared...and always had. I went and watched her falling into the arms of a married scumbag of an ex, panicked, groveled at her feet, and she made it clear she preferred the scumbag._

" _Later, my mother essentially told me that in her eyes, I was still the worthless teenage rebel who she felt justified having hauled away with the rest of the trash. How's that for a summary?" Jess concluded bitterly, with a flash of the eyes that expressed his irritation at being obliged to state_  once again ' _what had been going on in his life.'_

_Doris nodded thoughtfully. "So, with all that in mind, you walked up to a man who had been drinking copiously, was twice your size, and who you had been given to understand had a violent temper, and you chose to demand that he give you money. And once this same man threatened your life, you chose to engage him in combat."_

" _That's a fair assessment." Jess watched her carefully._

" _It sounds to me as if you agreed with your mother's appraisal… and Rory's... as well as that of the town of Stars Hollow."_

_Jess didn't look at her at this point; nor did he speak, though Doris waited for him too. He out-waited her. He didn't answer, and he didn't ask 'about what?'_

" _The value of your life… you didn't think it amounted to much in that moment, did you?"_

_Jess swallowed; and if she hadn't been watching very closely, Doris wouldn't have caught the tiny shake of his head._

* * *

"Look, I'm not trying to tread on your turf. I just-" Jess cut himself off, shrugging. "I dunno if it's even what she wants; but, if she asks me to get in contact with Jimmy, I have no idea how he's going to react. But I know the knife-in-your-gut feeling, waiting to find out; and I'm not going to just  _leave_  her to face that by herself… unless that's what she wants. It was hard enough going it alone at 18. All I've got's a point of reference-the  _been there done that._ It's not understanding her the way  _you_  do. But it might be worth  _something._ "

Anna nodded, almost reluctantly. "It might," she acknowledged.

A deep breath coursed its way through her lungs. "I guess I always knew I couldn't keep her from him forever. I hoped it wouldn't come this soon, and I hoped that I'd get to decide when the time was right, but... " Anna swallowed hard, "she has decided the time is right for her-that she needs this now." Her words were trembling a little, but Anna shrugged her shoulders, in the most purposeful fashion such a gesture could be made. "So… I have to make sure she gets what she needs."

Jess half smiled, "It may  _be_  what she needs…" his lips pressed together, lower lip protruding slightly, with a slow nod at the floor. "But it sounds to me like you made sure she wasn't lacking for anything."

"She wasn't. Certainly not her absent father. I have a support system, people who look out for me and who  _adore_  April - would go to the ends of the earth for her. My mom looked after April while I worked, and when I was starting my business. My friends' husbands treat her as their own. When April was little she would make them a card for father's day. My dad and brothers are all scientists at the lab in Hartford, and April got her first microscope at nine when the lab upgraded… She took samples of  _everything._  She's an incredibly smart, beautiful, curious girl. And the day I found out about her project, it was a slap in the face. With everything I provided for her… she still questioned where she came from."

"Of course she did," Jess shrugged. "It's very lonely and isolating not to  _know..._  where you  _come_  from…  _who…_ you come from," his eyes dropped, "and why they're not there."

Anna looked up at him, seeing the vulnerability in him, the same way she used to see it in Jimmy.

"I'm sure it is," she said softly. "It's getting late and I have to pick her up. You are welcome to stick around. Stay for dinner. It'll be good for both of you," she offered with a smile.

"I have to get into the city for an event tonight. But I'll be back in a few weeks. April should come by the diner." He bit together lips that smiled in return, mixed emotion threatening to weaken them; and his eyes dodged self-consciously.

Anna watched him as, for a moment, he seemed younger than his 21 years. His earlier words echoed back to her... _did you ever stop and think_ … Maybe April was a puzzle piece he needed, just as much as he was for her-someone more or less in the same boat, making that boat less lonely… less isolating.

Her gaze was still on him when he looked up, eyes tinged with hope, and pain, and almost countless nameless emotions, each struggling for predominance.

Anna's smile lifted. "I'll give her the message."

* * *

_And now?" Doris asked._

_How did he think of himself now? Still the useless sack of garbage he'd been convinced he was three months ago?_

_He shrugged. "Little better."_

_Doris paused, glancing at an upper cabinet as if wishing for something inside, though she made no move toward it. "Jess," she said steadily, "I need you to be very candid with me. Have you ever contemplated taking your own life?"_

" _No." The answer was quick and sharp._

_She let it hang in the air._

_He stared back at her levelly, as if daring her to challenge the denial._

" _Have you ever come up with a plan? An exit route, just in case you ever reached that point?"_

_His lips twisted. "Well, Hemingway blew his brains out, and Sid Vicious died from partying on a load of his mom's dope. I don't have a gun or want to visit any of my mother's dealers, so no plan so far. Yeah... stove's broke too, and sticking your head in somebody else's is just plain rude..."_

" _That's enough!" Doris nearly shouted her red curly hair seemingly on fire. "You think this is a joke?"_

 _Jess licked his lips, and then bit them, forming words very deliberately. "I've contemplated most things on an abstract level. You talk methods and plans, those are honestly the places my mind goes." His expression was one of acute mental discomfort. "I'm not sure I buy the fact that there', who's never thought about it. But, at the end of the_ contemplation,  _all of it boils down_  to a Bad idea - not something I'd wanna do _."_

" _But taking your life in your hands is somehow different?" It wasn't a sarcastic question. It was soft… softer than most people would believe Doris_ could be.

" _For one thing, it doesn't screw other people up as much as if you took yourself out. And, yeah, that's something I'd thought about. But, for the record, I didn't purposely set out to get killed that night."_

" _We have four more sessions and then you go back to court at the end of the month. So before I write this assessment, I need to know you won't harm yourself or put yourself in a situation where an innocent bystander is suddenly in your crosshairs. Because_ then _, in a split second, you become the person you have worked_ so hard  _not to be."_

_Jess' eyes squeezed shut._

" _You do not exist in isolation, Jess Mariano. Every action you take_ will  _change the lives of the people around you. Worst of all, attempting to_ REMOVE  _yourself from the equation of their lives, whether by running away or by ceasing to exist_ always,  _ALWAYS is THE_  most destructive action  _you could_ possibly  _take. The ONLY way to avoid being a_ negative  _force in the lives of those around you, is_ by becoming  _a POSITIVE one. Do you understand me? Do you_ understand  _what I am saying to you?"_

_Jess struggled to speak. His voice came out as little more than a whisper. "Yes."_

" _I expect great things from you, Jess Mariano. I expect you to move on from here and_ live life _, and it_ will be  _a SPECTACULAR life - a life_ worth living -  _a life you will WANT_  to live!"  _Her eyes were alive and glowing as she said it. "Are we clear?"_

_He choked on the single syllable. "Yes."_

* * *

Jess' final stop before meeting up with Matt and Chris was the laundromat. He had no desire to spend his free day in the city searching for a place to wash his clothes - or hanging around a hotel laundry room if they happened to have one. It would be his only true day off until sometime after finals, and he wanted to go to The Strand.

While he waited till the next time he had to start plunking quarters into a machine, he tried to lose himself in a book. This was his fail-safe. It had seen him through more times that he'd like to forget that he presently wished to think about. This particular book, this particular day, this particular moment in time, it wasn't working. Maybe the book was lousy. Maybe the day was worse. Maybe the combination of the two made his head keep bouncing back out of the story world and into the muddle that had overtaken his thoughts on his drive from Connecticut.

That conversation with Anna.

This wasn't like the bridge with Rory and the bad tasting gin, where he felt sick and numb and filled with nameless dread of a fragment past he hadn't known existed. But something of the numbness was the same… the nausea was replaced with an empty feeling, almost dizzy… weak in the elbows. But just like that night on the bridge, it felt like he really ought to be angry…  _really, really angry. Not just numb._

Jimmy. By all rights, he should be furious with Jimmy.

It was one thing for him to be off bumming his way through state after state, one thing to settle in California and have a wife and a step-daughter and a whole other existence on the opposite side of the  _country. Ugh, it hurt._  But it was something else entirely to have been  _right there…_ less than a day's drive. To have...been thinking about him, talking about him. It was crazy to visualize him sitting at a table in some coffee shop with his cigarette and his 'bowl of bean soup,' as Sasha used to call the morning mug that he nursed until noon… sitting there at, what?... like...29? talking to a blue-eyed, dark-haired girl -woman, but, yeah, just out of college… The two of them sitting there with their coffee barely knew each other… and Jimmy told her about… Jess swallowed, not feeling the pain or the swelling or the lump until he tried to swallow it down.  _He told her about...me._

All those times as a kid, laying in bed, wondering.  _Was he dead?_  and  _he couldn't be_ … all at once. All those times walking down the streets, through the crowds, looking at faces. Looking for one that looked more like him than his mom did. He had to look like his dad, right? That was how it worked: if you didn't look like one then you had to look like the other, it was how genes and inheriting and stuff worked. He had his mom's brown eyes, so he had to have his dad's everything else.

All that time. He could have been right there. Just like he thought.

He didn't forget.

No amnesia. No blow to the head. No forgetting because he just didn't want to think about it, or because he drank too much and the thought just wasn't there.

In the time he lived with Jimmy, Jess never had the nerve to ask for a straight answer. He was doing good just getting a place a stay and food to eat… getting to see his father… every day… seeing who he was.

Why wait eighteen years? Why go to Connecticut? How did he even know where to find him? Did he  _talk?! to Liz?!_ How did  _THAT_  go _?_ How did he  _find her_ , for that matter?

He'd never gotten the answers to  _THOSE_  questions. Why did every conversation and every encounter with April or Anna bring up half a dozen more?

Jess had been perfectly content knowing Jimmy… just… knowing him, talking to him a few times a year. That was all he needed from his 'father.' If his time in California taught him nothing else, it had taught him that was all there was there.

April… April changed everything. A connection to her meant, very likely, a permanent connection to Jimmy. It meant having to  _deal with_  Jimmy… having to worry... having to face the whole thing all over.

He never wanted to face that man's rejection again.

Now he didn't have a choice.

Sure, Anna and Luke could  _say_  he had a choice. They could say it all they wanted, but catch either of  _them_  abandoning their own flesh and blood? It wouldn't even enter their heads. But, somehow,  _he_  was different? He was allowed to turn his back? To leave a hole in her life? Another one? Not an option.

 _So_ … Jess released a large breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in ... _into the fire._ Sooner or later, he was going to be called upon to announce to Jimmy Mariano that he was the proud father of a bouncing 12-year-old girl. Thought of from the proper perspective, he could enjoy a certain schadenfreude in that.  _Didn't like it last time? Well, how 'bout you give it a second try? It's still a little later than sooner, but your aim is improving, maybe the third time will be the charm-you got any more out there? Time to become oooonne biiig haaappy family!_

_Oy!_

Once upon a time, somewhere in the maze of bus routes, he meandered from the west coast to the east, he'd tried imagining a life where Jimmy had been there full-time as a parent… right from the start. A life where he and Liz somehow hadn't wanted to kill each other or split… y'know… ever, the way people talk about  _marriage_   _actually_  is, as if that wasn't a fairytale, only known in the boundaries of Stars Hollow and the pages of books, and sometimes, only for the briefest of seconds, in his imagination. He tried to picture Jimmy, a little older than his age, with an infant, and then a toddler… some miniature version of himself that he'd caught in a few faded-brown polaroids over the years, shuffled in bills and newspaper ads and other junk… He'd tried to see it. It was laughable; and there probably wasn't anyone more unprepared for a child like Jess, than Jimmy… even present-day Jimmy, much  _less_ twenty-something Jimmy who wandered from pillar to post and was likely even more nervous, and fumbling and un-people-compatible than in later years. Probably there was no one more unprepared for a child like Jess… with the painful exception of his mother.

The buzzer indicated that his clothes were finished drying, snapping him out of a bizarre daydream with Jimmy and Liz as a suburban couple with a mini-van, 2.4 children, and a white picket fence.

He had a basket full of clean and folded laundry when he pushed the door of the laundromat open with his shoulder, backing out, the smell of bleach and warm cotton lingering in his nostrils, the rattle of washing machines and the hum of dryers only beginning to fade from his ears, and the residual buzz of all of the week's insanity continuing to dull his mind.

He walked without seeing, only for a few steps before turning the corner - and in one thunderclap moment, colliding with another laundry basket...carried by a tall man...whose eyes, wide and horrified, caused Jess' heart to stop and time to stand still.

As the deafening silence cleared to city bustle and time lurched forward to resume normality, Jess' heart began to  _pound_  and flight won out over fight for both men… Jess nearly sprinted to his car, checking over his shoulder every couple of steps, the other man all but flying into the building Jess had just exited, leaving a scattered trail of socks and underwear ...just as he'd run like hell the second the cops showed up …last time.

 _Of all the laundromats in all the towns in all the world…_ Jess' mind recited nonsensically while his hands shook, setting the basket on the hood of his car, fumbling the key fob and door handle and the basket once again, dumping the clothes unceremoniously into his back seat. There was a bag he'd intended to put the folded clothes into.  _Screw that._ No way in hell was he taking the stupid basket back inside. He placed [flung] it onto the sidewalk. After circling the car, unhesitatingly slamming the door behind him, he gripped the steering wheel, pulling out onto the street, and turned the direction opposite the one he needed to go. Foot on the accelerator, bless the green lights. He breathed a sigh of relief and then cursed himself. It had been nearly two years. It wasn't like the guy was  _Jack the Ripper!_  With his logical mind, Jess knew there was no sound reason to go into apoplectic shock. His adrenaline circuits, however, begged to differ.


	19. Good Side Of The City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are coffee to the soul...

" _Treat your men as you would your own beloved sons. And they will follow you into the the deepest valley."_

―  _ **Sun Tzu**_ _,_ _ **The Art of War**_

" _You wrote this?"_

_Jess nodded._

" _This is what you wrote… When I told you to keep a journal - of our sessions - this is what you wrote?" Doris' voice was flat in disbelief._

" _Yeeaah…" Jess replied with some hesitation. He slowly scraped his teeth along his lower lip. "It's not what you wanted," he stated, grimly. He'd grown accustomed to failure when it came to meeting other people's expectations._

" _Um, no. I mean, yes. I mean...it's… It's...very well written," Doris said, her eyes softening as she looked at him. "It's a novel. And...I'll have to take this home to...actually read...what I asked you to write. And that's not a BAD thing," she hastened to add. "It's…"_

" _I just needed to work some stuff out."_

_Doris nodded blankly. "I have no doubt that's what you were doing," she continued reading for a moment. "You're… very articulate with a pen in your hand."_

_Jess shrugged._

" _And, I now realize how we ought to have conducted our sessions…" she trailed off, "now that we're nearly done."_

_He hung his head sheepishly._

" _Have you always... I mean obviously… You don't write something like this if you've never written before. And you wrote out the account for me of what happened with Jimmy. So you… you WRITE."_

" _I just...dabble," he trivialized._

" _This isn't dabbling….. Jess, you're a_ writer _. You're extremely well read, and from everything you have let me look at, a...talented writer. This…" her eyes kept scanning his words, "needs a little finessing and a good editor, but… Have you ever thought of trying to get your writing published?"_

" _No." He grimaced. "I just...do it when I need to get some stuff off my mind."_

" _So, over the course of seven-and-a-half weeks, you've been just getting stuff off your mind, and you accidentally wrote a short novel?"_

" _It's not a novel."_

" _But, it could be," she said, continuing to skim, "and with far less revision than you might think."_

_Jess' features creased in something akin to irritation. "I couldn't…" he bit his lip, in between trying to speak, "None of this is something I could ever share with anybody," he told her candidly. "The only reason I can show it to YOU is that it's mostly stuff you already know; and because you're legally required not to show it to anyone else."_

" _All right, so, not this," Doris began. "But your writing, your way-I cannot believe I am saying this-with WORDS, needs to BE SEEN. Think of all the books that have changed your life. Now imagine if any one of those writers had stuffed all of their writing in an attic, a basement, a hole in the ground; or worse yet, if they'd never written at all; and, not just you, but all of their readers - all of the people and lives that their writing touched and changed - had missed out… on ALL of it! That is the kind of contribution_ you have  _to give, Jess Mariano. Whether you choose to believe it or not, you do. And, it is my belief that you are not selfish enough to keep it from those... who need it. Every child, every adolescent, every young adult who has ever lived a life like yours - even if you don't write ABOUT that life, it will seep into your words - every one of them who picked up one of your books could be shored up...helped, by the words you wrote."_

_Jess didn't say a word but stared intently into nothingness._

" _I don't have to tell you to think about it." She looked at him, although he wasn't looking at her. "I've gotten to know you a little bit, Jess." A hint of a smile graced her lips. "You_ will."

* * *

Would you hurry up?" Matt knocked on the door. "The car is going to be here in a few minutes."

"One minute," Jess yelled from behind the door.

"Get it together," he mumbled to himself, looking in the mirror as he buttoned his shirt.

"Is that new?" Matt asked when Jess was out of the restroom.

"Yeah," Jess said, unsure if Matt was talking about the black and white silk tie around his neck, the crisp cream colored shirt, or the gold cufflinks.

"Gather 'round," Matt said a moment later to both Jess and Chris. "This is an important pre-game ritual," he said, giving Chris and Jess each a shot glass filled with clear liquor. "To putting up with dad tonight."

They clinked glasses. As Jess swallowed the burning liquid and let it settle in his stomach, he decided he needed this. He needed a night with his friends and to forget about the last few days. He didn't want to think about new sisters, or Jimmy and his summer romance that produced that new sister.

Matt insisted on another shot in the car on the way over, calling it a 'necessary evil.

They pulled up to a dazzling edifice in the vicinity of the Chelsea Pier. It was on the west end of the city, not far from an apartment complex he once lived in with Liz, not long before his Stars Hollow days. The building was eight stories high. From the outside looked like it was made of shimmering, turquoise and gold hued, leaded crystal. Four stories up, it narrowed to make an observation deck, then swirled upward in towers sculpted in architectural lines reminiscent of swaying sea kelp.

All of New York had a way of making a person feel small. The tall buildings, the long streets - even for a kid who had grown up here, there were times it still made him feel like just a tiny ant on a huge ant hill.

Something though about arriving in a slick, sleek, black car, stepping into the asphalt in polished shoes, glancing left and right to his friends, his comrades, likewise decked out in pinstripes and tie bars and… the kind of clothes that he'd brushed past on the street growing up his whole life, but never even  _dreamt_ of wearing… It wasn't even that he'd craved this feeling. He wouldn't have known it to wish for it in the first place - it would be like a polar bear wishing for Palm Springs. It was a rush, a high, a floating sort of feeling; and that was even accounting for the two shots.

It was madness.

The entrance was like walking into magenta colored glowing ice cubes… darting lights and shimmers dancing over the walls like rainbows from windblown prisms. Ridiculous time for his brain to pull up  _Pollyanna_ of all things!  _Glad thoughts. Huh._

It ought to, by all rights, felt like the most shallow, pretentious junk on the planet...all that ostentatious glitz and pomp... _in the name of "charity."_  It should have called him to no end and made him want to run for the exits out of sheer loathing and nails-on-chalkboard of hypocrisy. Caulfield, he wasn't, but this much  _phony_  should have turned his stomach, should have made him want to rip somebody a new one and tell them how they could use this kind of money if they wanted to actually  _help._

But again… somehow, he  _needed this._

* * *

_At his last court date, Jess was sentenced to a hundred hours of community service. The fine he had to pay was higher than judge gave him a lecture that amounted to a parent lecturing a child and grounding him until he does extra chores._

_His meeting with the lady at the Manhattan DA's office went better than expected. She assigned him to the Parks Department picking up trash. He also found a soup kitchen where he could work in addition, so he could complete his community service hours faster._

_He elected to work a double shift his first day on trash detail. Jess was certain he was supposed to be contemplating why he was here or how he would 'never ever do that again'. Instead, he was thinking about the story he started writing a few months ago, the one he didn't show Doris. The one he started writing because he needed to keep his mind off of things he wrote in the journal she made him keep, and kept writing because he couldn't put it down. He used it now to make the hours go faster. He could do the physical writing when his shift was over. For the present, he sharpened the scenes and brainstormed some of the last few plot holes in his head._

_With forty-five minutes left and the hot, August sun beating down on him, he found a section of the park no one else was working on, near the street. A storm the night before had blown fliers off a post, leaving him lots of work to fill his remaining time._

_It didn't take him long to see the post was used mostly by college students looking for roommates or advertising used textbooks they had for sale._

_A glossy, brightly colored piece of paper caught his eye just as he stabbed it-or, to be more accurate, a single word captured his attention: "WRITERS." He bent and retrieved it from the tip of the trash pick. It had gotten fairly mangled and sodden, but he could still make most of it out. Anything with the words "Meet and Greet" made his gut twist, but the event was a shot. It was a chance to find out how the world of writers and editors and publishers_ worked  _in the real world, from the people_ in that world _. He stuffed the flyer in his pocket and went back to work. The event was being held in The Village. It left him a week to finish what he was writing, just in case there was anyone who would give it a second look. Really, though, he didn't expect anything more than some familiarization... a good bit of abject terror and a little bit of helpful information. A first step._

* * *

The room was a hive of sound - so called  _white_  noise, better described as amber… lilting, buzzing.

Upper crust meets intelligentsia - there could be worse company. Matt navigated it all. Where Jess was a native of the city, Matt was born to this world, dropped into its grooves effortlessly.

"You're late, Matthew," they were greeted the moment they had been ushered to their table

"We're on time," Matt said, checking his watch.

"You missed cocktail hour," the older man snapped. "Just sit," he ordered. "Chris," he nodded his head in greeting, his tone softening.

"Mr. Montgomery," Chris returned.

At that moment, a man who was evidently a colleague of Matt's father stepped up for a private word.

"Why would you do that?" Chris hissed, leaning to speak across Jess, just after they'd taken their seats, "piss him off for no actual reason. Then you make him right. You know how he gets when people pick and choose which parts of an event to attend!"

"You've had the invitation as long as I have!" Matt bit out in whispered retort.

The older man turned, resuming his place at the table. "My apologies, necessary business," he explained with a gracious tone.

"Dad," Matt cleared his throat when his father sat down, adopting the warmth that had colored the phrase just spoken. "This is Jess Mariano, our replacement for Ben and Drew," he introduced, with a wave of the hand. "Jess, this is my dad, Landon Montgomery"

When the elder Montgomery stood up, he towered over the table. He had dark hair with flecks of gray at the temples. With Matt standing next to the imposing man, it was clear he was a younger, somewhat miniature version of his father.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Montgomery," Jess swallowed when Matt's father glanced his way.

He looked Jess up and down for a moment, not saying a word, studying him. "My son says you saved us a very large lawsuit," he said, sticking his hand out.

"I just got lucky," Jess answered taking the man's hand and suddenly wishing he hadn't done that second shot on an empty stomach.

"Call me Monty, please," he said releasing his hand. "And don't be humble. My son tells me it would have taken a keen eye to catch the mistake you did, one he should have caught himself."

"I...well then it's lucky I picked up that particular German novel a few years back," Jess shrugged trying and probably failing to accept Monty's praise. He filled his water glass and took a drink, savoring the cold, sobering refreshment.

Matt, Jess, and Chris found their way outside and onto the deck that overlooks the city. It was a clear January night. From his vantage point, he had a 360 view of the city and the Hudson river. The city lights danced off the water made for a perfect winter picture. On one side he had a view of the financial district and wall street and the Statue of Liberty building.

On the other side, he had a perfect view of an apartment building he lived in with Liz many years ago. He could see the school he went too and the corner he had to avoid so he wouldn't get beaten up. Even the Puerto Rican restaurant that was a front for drug deals was still open.

"He likes you," Matt whispered bumping Jess' elbow, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"What would have happened if he didn't?" Jess asked in surprise, matching Matt's hushed tone. A waitress came by with a new round of drinks.

"Just be glad we don't have to find out," Chris answered in a comparable whisper.

When they got back to the table, Monty had his back turned and was speaking to a man with blond hair. Jess couldn't see who it was, as most of his face was obscured by Monty's shoulder; but the man was dressed in a suit the color of sandstone, had a deliberately off-handed stance, hands in his suit pockets, and a receding hairline. Though he stood a few inches shorter than Mr. Montgomery, he obviously commanded his attention, along with that of the entire table next to their own, filled with tired looking business men all hanging on every word that fell from the blond man's lips.

* * *

_Jess paced by the phone daring himself to call the number._

_He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and dialed the number that started with 205. As it began to ring Jess hoped they wouldn't pick up…_

" _Truncheon Books, Matthew speaking."_

" _Uh, hi, this is Jess Mariano, we met at the…"_

" _Writers Meet And Greet...hang on let me get Chris. I'm glad you called..."_

_Jess was put on hold for a short minute, "Okay."_

" _Uh," Matt's voice clicked back on the line. "Chris has a thing—I mean, he's—he can't get to the phone at this precise second."_

" _Okay," Jess repeated._

" _I'm just going to cut to the chase. We like what you have, but we're wondering—where's the rest?" Matt started._

" _The rest?" Jess frowned._

" _There needs to be more. We want to know what happens after that… and before that. In fact, you wrote like, the middle of a story."_

" _I wasn't kidding when I said I had no training."_

" _It's okay, it's really good. It just needs work... a beginning… an ending. Like, basically the other 90% of the story."_

" _I… I hadn't figured out any more than I wrote."_

" _Well, you're the writer. Start figuring. Because this is absolutely engrossing, but you leave the reader dangling off the edge of a cliff; which, normally, is a great thing; but it's like a half a cliff- and no hope of ever coming down. You_ see  _the difficulty?"_

" _Um… yeah." Jess bit the corner of his lip, not knowing where this conversation would end up, or if it had already ended. Constructive criticism: finish the damn thing._

" _Wait—you're not going to start defending your creative vision?"_

_Jess stared at the phone. "I'm not that pretentious. I just wrote a story. You're the professional editors and publishers. I just don't know where I'd go from there."_

" _Good."_

_Jess couldn't see his own face, but he could feel the credulousness of his expression._

" _Then you're less likely to be offended by all the theories—and by theories, I mean speculation—and by speculation, I mean heavy-handed suggestions Chris and I came up with."_

_Jess started laughing out loud._

" _How attached are you to New York?"_

" _What?" Jess liked these guys, but he was beginning to wonder if they were a little nuts._

" _Um... basically we like your story so much that we'd like to help you finish it."_

" _Woah."_

" _But it's kind of a pain to go through that intense a process long distance—not that it can't be done—but it's a hassle. And, I mean, I know most people can't just drop everything and move just for the heck of it; but I thought it was worth asking."_

" _If I could move to Philadelphia?"_

" _For a few months, at least."_

" _Uh-huh…" Jess dragged out the puzzled syllable. He heard another voice in the background._

" _Wait, did you just invite a complete stranger to move in with us?"_

_It was a worried voice that Jess could only assume belonged to the other half of Truncheon Books._

_Matt's voice came through the phone muffled as if he were not speaking into the receiver. "I don't think I did—" louder, "I didn't offer you a room, did I?"_

_Okay, the guy was definitely nuts. "Nope."_

_Muffled again. "Should I?"_

" _Are you crazy?!"_

" _No more than most days."_

_Jess sat listening to the muffled back-and-forth that he was pretty sure wasn't supposed to reach his ears._

" _Are you still there?"_

" _Yes. Definitely here."_

" _You couldn't move to Philadelphia without a place to live, right?"_

" _Generally speaking, that's a logical assumption."_

" _Well, we've got a proposition."_

" _Not a good word."_

" _Whatever," Matt verbally shrugged before continuing. "We've got a job opening here. And a room full of crap that needs throwing away."_

_The other voice objected to the last part._

" _Well, most of it needs throwing away; but that is very much not the point. The job would be doing some of the day to day operations of our publishing house. It's part-time and a lot of grunt work. Our press is older than dirt and on its last leg...probably going to break down soon."_

" _Okaaaaaay…" Jess was starting to wonder if there was some sort of mind-altering substance at play here._

" _You do the job, you help us clean out the room, and you get to stay in the room and have us help you finish and edit your book," he continued._

" _My book?" The rest was crazy, but that one just fell like a stone at Jess' feet. A thud. A beautiful impossibility that just got tossed his way as something real and tangible and…_

" _Oh, it's definitely a book," Matt declared halfway expecting an argument. "When it's finished, we can decide from there. I mean, it would kind of stink if you didn't want to publish with us; and don't think we won't be trying to get you into a contract—but it's your baby."_

_Jess stood listening with awe filled, wide eyes._

" _Anyway… you'd probably need a second job for food and whatever, but your rent and utilities would be covered. That is if Chris doesn't murder me before you get here for not hammering out the details with him first."_

_Jess closed his eyes and took a deep breath, Doris' words going round and round in his head. These guys were crazy, Jess was certain of that. Maybe even blowing smoke. But maybe not, maybe he was crazy not to give it a shot and see what happens. Either way, perhaps this was a step, and right or wrong he was being offered a chance, something he'd never had before."_

" _I can't move right away, there are some..." Jess paused, looking for the right word, "loose ends that I have to tie up here."_

" _Right, you mentioned that, don't worry about it. As long as you're not an ax-murder we could actually care less."_

" _Okay, then," Jess said, a knot in his stomach. Did he now have a felon vibe that wafted off of him like cheap cologne? "That's good to know."_

" _Would a month and a half be a realistic time frame?" Matt asked._

" _Okay," Jess agreed, the whites of his knuckles showing from clutching the phone, "I'll try and be ready to move in six weeks."_

" _Good." A grin was in the single word. "Welcome aboard Truncheon Books."_

* * *

Lorelai was right about the food. It smelled great, but the weird sauces were really weird, and Jess was certain that he could go his entire life without eating a black grape and balsamic pork or a purple potato and beluga lentils. The salad was ruined by the lemon-anchovy rolls were good, so Jess picked at everything else and filled up on rolls. He nearly choked with laughter when he saw both Matt and Chris do the same.

"We should have eaten before we came," he heard Chris whisper to Matt.

"I believe an ' _I told you so'_  is in order," Matt whispered back.

For five years, The New York Fiction Writers Association's Gala Fundraiser had been organized to benefit their summer program. Annually, the association hosted two, six weeks programs for writers. The first session was open to students between the ages of fourteen and seventeen. This program culminated in a public reading, featuring the best of the students' work; along with the publication of a special section of their magazine devoted to the same.

For the last three years, the second session was a competitive program, geared toward aspiring writers between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. The only requirement was that the applicant had to send in a complete short story, totaling less than 15,000 words, which was not a part of a larger project. At the end of  _that_  program, an entire second  _edition_  of the magazine was published, with  _each_  of the participants' best work. In addition, the reading was frequently attended by literary agents, as well as Indie publishing houses like Truncheon, each vying for the opportunity to be the one to discover  _the next big thing_. Annually, there were twenty spots open for the program's second session. The year before 10,000 applicants were sent in for consideration.

The keynote speaker for the evening was from the first class of older summer graduates. He had gone on to publish several novels, all of which Jess read, and they were among his current favorites. Steve Timbler was an accomplished author, professor, and blogger. He had been awarded the  _Wallace Stegner Fellowship_  at Stanford and the  _Hodder Fellowship_  at Columbia University. He was on the longlist for  _The American Book Award_  and most recently,  _Forbes 30 under 30 to watch._

"I wish I knew Steve Timbler was going to be the keynote speaker," Jess said as he saw who was taking the stage.

"Didn't know you knew who he was," Matt answered.

"He's gotta be in the top five greatest writers under thirty in the country right now."

"Really?" Matt questioned. "His writing's a little too philosophical for me; but If you want, I'll introduce you later. He's a cool guy. He did his Masters at Hamilton while I was there getting my BA."

"Matthew," Monty interrupted the conversation between Jess and Matt. "There are people I would like you to meet."

"When I come back, we'll go," he said, getting up to follow his father.

"Another drink?" Chris asked, getting up and heading toward the bar.

As they excused themselves, weaving past the table on Monty's side, a familiar blond head raised, echoing their polite words and scooting his chair inward to make room. Jess' stomach lurched as he saw surprised recognition flash across the guy's eyes, and realized the last time he saw those eyes, he was also getting up from a table and trying to squeeze past. The last name. Publishing. The puzzle piece clicked.

Then his eyes caught a glimpse of the slender brunette sitting alongside the chair which had just scooted inward; but he forced himself to keep moving, not sparing a backward glance to confirm what he thought he just saw.

Twenty minutes later, Matt made his way back to their table just as Chris and Jess made their way back from the bar with a beer and leftover passed h'orderves.

"Ready?" Matt asked. "I need to eat real food."

"Here, Chris handed him a mini taco, "we made friends with the bartender and he gave us these since we missed happy hour."

"Those are good," he said swallowing. "Too bad the rest of the food tasted like garbage...it was fancy garbage…" Matt shrugged. "S'ok. I saw a pizza place down the street we could walk to before we go to the bar."

Jess looked at him with a weird expression while running his tongue across his teeth, swiping away potentially unsightly remnants of taco filling. "Might as well wear a sign that says ' _please jump me_ ' walking down the street dressed like that."

"That's right, you lived around here," Matt remembered. "Well then, you be the tour guide and take us somewhere."

Chris winced, "Don't look now," Chris whispered, his smile fading. "Jerry Gergenheim is headed this way."

"Crap," Matt mumbled.

"Be nice," Chris admonished quietly. "Every time I've seen him tonight, he's either coming back from the bar or going to it."

"Well, look who it is," Jerry slurred, eyeing Matt. "Still using Daddy's money for your little publishing experiment?"

"What do you want, Jerry?" Matt asked, rolling his eyes and not noticing that Monty was behind him.

"Just wanted to tell you my legal department confirmed that Ellen Taylor is trying to pass off a knock off manuscript as original."

Chris caught Matt's eye, giving him a look that only they understood.

"Hey, I know this is your first rodeo and all…" Jerry continued.

"What's your point?" Chris asked, cutting in on the conversation.

"Chris," he said, noticing him. "I knew Tweedledee couldn't be that far behind Tweedledum," Jerry observed, turning from Matt to address Chris. "My offer still stands if you want a real job. I need an artist like you on my team."

"I'm perfectly happy where I am," Chris said cooly. "Thanks for your concern, though. Now if you don't mind, we'll see you later."

"I just figured you would want to know she plagiarized something. Wouldn't want to waste daddy's money."

"My assistant editor was the one who pointed it out; and  _we_  contacted  _you_ ," Matt answered dryly, as Chris shifted to a position still to the side, but between Jerry and Matt, ready to step in at a moment's notice.

"Editorial Assistant?"

"Yep,  _Assistant_ ," Matt emphasized. Jess offered his hand to shake, but the older man ignored him while Matt continued. "We don't need a fancy legal department because  _we_  have Jess."

Jerry's eye's narrowed, " _Well?_  Young man, this seems to be your ballgame. What is it exactly that you think you found that a team of legal experts apparently rubber stamped?" He asked, sneering at Jess.

"She rewrote ' _The Reader_ ,' by Bernhard Schlink," he replied.

"How  _sure_  are you?" Jerry quizzed.

"Very sure," Jess answered him confidently. "It followed the whole story arc, scene by scene. Long passages were almost word for word. She's an excellent writer; and if she'd just used the novel as inspiration, based an original work on the same premise, but with new characters and a different setting... it could have been really good. I dunno if she shortchanged her own ability, or just wanted to cash in without doing the work, but..." he shrugged with a sighing disappointment, "you just can't get away with that kind of snow job."

"She obviously didn't count on someone like Jess," Chris started.

"...who reads everything and has the memory of an elephant," Matt added.

Jerry looked back and forth from Matt to Chris for a moment, his eyes landing once more on Jess afterward, a keenness to his gaze, "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one," Jess answered.

"Figures the two of you would hire some kind of under qualified, savant, still wet behind the ears," Jerry mumbled, clearly addressing Matt and Chris, but at a volume better suited to addressing oneself. "Are you in school at least?" he asked Jess at a normal, if not elevated volume, overcompensating for the background noise of the room.

"He's more qualified than the drones you have working for you," Matt jumped in. "I know because some of them applied for Jess' position. Even short-staffed we turned them down," Matt rambled under his breath.

Jess narrowed his eyes at Gergenheim, disliking his penchant for personal questions, "I'm attending the local community college at the moment." The hardening of his jaw that accompanied a polite smile, dared the older man to find fault.

"Boston University has a very good English program. Keep that in mind when you're ready to transfer. I could put in a good word for ya," Jerry said, ignoring Matt.

"Still figuring out my next move, thanks. But, I'll keep it in mind."

Jerry pulled out his business card. "When you figure it out, give me a call. You would do well in my internship program. I have guys twice your age, and with qualifications up the wazoo, none of whom caught that little... manuscript faux pas," he emphasized, before taking a step backward. "Bye, boys. Don't spend all of daddy's money in one place." As he turned to leave, he flashed a grin too full of teeth, enjoying the discomfort he caused.

Chris had moved so his arm was outstretched and ready to jump to Matt's defense, in case Jerry decided to really push things. Watching him weave his way through the overdressed, over glittered crowd. "Sleazy jerk," he muttered, and not because he was competition, but because it was the truth of the matter. Little doubt if he could have gotten away with it, he'd have published someone else's work as readily as Ellen Taylor would have sold over the rights to something that was not her own.

"You ready?" Chris asked, looking at Matt to judge his friend's present state of mind.

"Yeah, let me just go get Steve; he's coming with us," Matt said. "Where are we stopping?" he asked Jess.

"Let's just go into The Village for Pizza."

"I'll get the cab," Chris piped in.

"And I'll meet you guys on the corner," Jess said, knowing where the cab would likely pull up. There was something he wanted to confirm without Matt's presence in particular.

As his friends went their separate ways, Jess quickly grabbed his coat and one last roll. Strolling a bit closer to the next table over than was strictly necessary, Jess glanced at the place setting in front of the chair which had scooted inward to make room for him. Or, to be more accurate, he glanced beside it. Scrolled etching adorned a cell phone case Jess cringed to remember was sterling silver.

_Dude! Cell phones are TEMPORARY! You don't waste precious metals, engraved or otherwise, to adorn them as gifts. It's like the reverse corollary to 'Never tattoo your significant other's name anywhere on your body.' You already KNOW this is only gonna get scrapped when the latest and greatest comes along._

He hadn't listened. Thus the scrollwork monogram MAT etched in silver. Jess let out a muted groan, feeling a punch in the gut that was not his own. With a sigh and a shake of the head, he walked toward the exit.

As Jess began to make his way down the sidewalk outside, a voice came from the shadows. "Leaving so soon?"

He nearly leaped out of his skin before realizing that the voice belonged to one Jerry Gergenheim, who stepped into the light too late to prevent Jess' heart from hammering, or his throat from going dry.

"You  _shouldn't_  do that," he admonished the older man. "Especially in  _this_  neighborhood, at this time of night."

"Rough part of town?" The middle aged man shifted his head with its sparse comb-over to one side in a pseudo-thoughtful query.

"Uh...yeah," Jess looked at him, not stopping the pitch-shift sarcasm lent the phrase."You  _do_  know where we are, right? Don't let the fancy lights fool you; we aren't far from Hell's Kitchen."

Jerry nodded, "So you're from the 'hood?" He cracked a smile.

Jess shrugged. "You could say that." His gaze and his tone stayed as dead flat as the pavement in front of him.

"Hmmm... You know... I grew up in Dorchester - South Boston. You wanna talk about a rough neighborhood..." He gave a low whistle.

"Right," Jess looked at the man sideways. "I should get going. Chris is getting our taxi."

"You know," Jerry started, putting his hand out to stop Jess from leaving. "I've read your book. It's got a lot of that flavor in there... that sense of what growing up in these neighborhoods is like... deep in your gut. You captured what most people can't. They write it from the outside.  _The Subsect…_ right to the heart - no holes barred, no punches pulled. You have a gift."

"What are you getting at?" Jess narrowed his eyes.

"What am I getting at?" he asked, tilting back in a full throated laugh. "You know, I like you, kid - you're sharp. Not gonna let anyone in the world put one over on you. Speaks to those self-same roots, am I right?"

If this guy thought Jess didn't know gilt-tongued, calculating, ingratiation when he heard it-because... "Again, is there a point to this?"

Evidently, the  _cut-the-crap_  demeanor had some effect. "You're self-promoting. You shouldn't have to be. Your work is good enough it should have come with a nice, shiny book deal, signings, eventually a tour - kind of reader-garnering publicity that makes people take notice. You're never going to get that at Truncheon."

"And, with  _that_ , our conversation is done," Jess snapped.

"You're being an idiot," Gergenheim warned, a chill darkness in the words. "Never turn down an opportunity before you've heard what it is."

Turning on his heel, Jess' eyes flashed. "I'll gladly remain in my  _idiocy, thank you very much_ , rather than fall for a pitch from a cigar chomping, sleaze-ball of a used car salesman in a checkered suit that reeks cheap, no matter  _how much_  he paid for it. What you think my bull detector's broke? Get your ears checked: Whatever you're selling, I'm  _not buying."_


	20. Wandering Parakeet

" _ **First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you."**_

―  _ **F. Scott Fitzgerald**_

_"But it was still just one book."_

_Jess looked at her blankly._

_Doris took a deep breath. "Even if it did work wonders with your uncle's romantic relationship, that doesn't make it Freud, Jung, and the Holy Gospel all rolled into one," Doris reasoned._

_"Now that would be a mess,"Jess rolled his eyes._

_"Don't change the subject. You read one psychological self-help book, and you expect that all your troubles relating to other humans are magically fixed? You're suddenly capable of repairing years of damage done to any relationship, be it with Luke, your mom, or Rory?"_

_"Hey, I left Stars Hollow on good terms with both Luke and my mom. I knew I needed to do something to fix my relationship with Luke way before any book. But it gave me the building blocks, the roadmap. Things with my mom were already okay until she wanted to marry TJ, but what else was new?"_

_"I understand that; and it's to your credit that you made the connection that you could apply what you read in this book on 'love' to more than just romantic relationships, which is more than the majority of its readers would likely deduce."_

_"I guess," Jess conceded, doubtfully._

_"My point is, a self-help book isn't a magic potion. It may very well be able to help you to some degree, insofar as you actually apply it."_

_"Right..." Jess nodded, rolling a hand as if speeding along the rest of her point."_

_"Well, so far, you told me how you carefully followed its suggestions, building up walls of broken trust and broken communication with your mother -"_

_"Yes," he confirmed staunchly._

_"And that you followed it to the letter in expressing gratitude and reaffirmation with Luke-"_

_"Again, yes."_

_"And then went to Rory, threw the instruction manual out the window and ranted and raved like a Don Quixote tilting at windmills!"_

_Jess glared._

_"And you have the nerve to act surprised that your Dulcinea didn't immediately jump on your broken down old horse and ride off into the sunset."_

_"You're slaughtering Cervantes."_

_"I don't care. Have I made my point?"_

_"I screwed it up. YES. You made your point. Mariano: 0, Psychology: 1,000. Thank you."_

_"That is not my point. Or at best, it is only half my expect too much - both of the book and yourself."_

_Jess sighed, looking down at the carpet._

_"How many books have you read on history, Jess?"_

_He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, dozens, hundreds maybe."_

_"Not just one?"_

_He bit back a scowl._

_"You didn't expect to have a complete working knowledge of the subject after reading a single textbook? What if it was an excellent textbook? Or memoir, or whatever kind of book it is from which you learn the subject of history!"_

_"All right, I am following your point. Go ahead and make the rest of it."_

_"You need to expect a learning curve, Jess. You need to expect to have to study the subject of relationships from many angles; and you need to expect that you are not going to apply what you learn perfectly in every instance. You will, as you put it 'screw up.' And, when you do, it is not the time to toss out either yourself or the entire subject into the rubbish heap!_

_"You have only just begun to explore psychology and the part it plays in human relationships. But, you ought to take into consideration that for a guy who just started to look into this, you're farther along now than some people who have sought answers from every form of self-help guru out on the planet."_

_"For all the good it did..."_

_"Patience and persistence. And give yourself credit for the progress you do make. It is far more important than any setback you may experience."_

* * *

"What an arrogant prick," Matt exclaimed as they caught up with Chris and the cab.

"Has he done that  _before?_ " A tall man with sandy blonde hair asked. Jess recognized him as Steve Timble.

"He's got some nerve, that's for sure," Jess said. "Like I don't know when someone is so full of crap…"

"Their eyes are brown?" Chris finished, in a mock southern accent."What happened?" he asked, craning his neck to look at Jess from his seat next to the cab driver.

After they'd piled into the cab, Jess told them about being ambushed and propositioned on the street by Jerry Gergenheim.

"I'm gonna punch him," Matt said with gritted teeth, growing red. "The next time I see him, I swear…"

"Relax," Chris said, with a raised eyebrow and the slightest hint of amusement at his best friend's ire. "He's done the same thing to me for years; only I never had the presence of mind to call him a sleazy used car salesman."

"Apt description," Matt said, amused, a grin playing on his lips. "He's just missing the used car salesman hair grease," he added, smoothing back his own hair with an imaginary gob of the stuff, expression momentarily that of slick disgust ending in a shudder.

"Well  _you_  can tell him where to get it," Chris jibed; and the two friends laughed at what was clearly an inside joke.

"I'm missing something here," Steve piped in.

"Matt sold used cars after he graduated high school and before he left for Hamilton," Chris summed up for Steve.

"With a  _reputable_  dealership," Matt cut in empathetically.

Chris rolled his eyes. "But he had no trouble playing the ' _I've got a single, working mom; and this is how I'm paying my way through college_ ' card."

"But I had too much dignity to sell a hunk-of-junk lemon as a reliable car the way Gergenheim tried to pass off Taylor's manuscript."

Chris' eyes widened, looking at Matt in the rearview mirror. "Wait - you think he knew it was a rip-off the whole time?"

"No. He wouldn't have been scouting around trying to track down who really sniffed out the plagiarism if his guys already had… but I'm not all that positive that if he  _had_  known, he wouldn't have just tried to slap some paint on it and sell it like it hadn't been in a wreck and left with hopelessly tweaked suspension."

"I think something gets lost in the complex car analogy; but, yeah, that's Jerry," Chris scoffed.

Steve and Jess exchanged a look as the cab pulled up to a busy pizzeria on Bleecker Street. While Matt and Chris ordered, it was up to them to find an empty booth.

"Swell party we just attended," Steve groaned as he slid into the seat and settled in.

Jess frowned in amusement, "You were the keynote speaker."

"And it's a lovely cause helping to fund the baby writers program. There is nothing wrong with what we just supported..."

"But…" Jess supplied.

"We're dressed in monkey suits… I'm a pizza and beer kind of guy, not a stuffy room in a fancy building, eating stuffy food, with stuffy people, kind of guy."

"I definitely hear that," Jess agreed.

Just then, Matt delivered a large pepperoni pizza to the table, with Chris and a pitcher of beer following close behind.

Steve took the pitcher from Chris, bringing it safely to the table. "Ah, Cinderella's slipper..." He paid no mind to the perplexed looks on the faces of his companions. "Beer is a great level-ev-eller," he slurred, though he clearly wasn't sufficiently inebriated to cause  _that_  degree of slurring.

Jess smirked. "It makes you my equal."

Steve's eyebrows rose sharply, his face gleeful that Jess had caught the reference, even if he'd come nowhere near a decent Jimmy Stewart impression. He pointed across the table at Jess' smirk. "You have unexpected depth!"

"Well, I  _have_  read your books...and  _I_  wasn't even trying to quit drinking."

"So far it's just you and my mother," Steve quipped, grinning appreciatively, while Matt and Chris looked more puzzled than ever.

It was one thing for lifelong friends to have inside jokes, but something else altogether for people who were almost strangers. Their expressions turned just plain dumbstruck when their newest companion burst enthusiastically into a line of song: "Have you heard, it's in the stars - next July we collide with Mars!"

Jess heard it as the playful test that it actually was, daring him to follow the game of mental leap-frog. While he wasn't about to start singing, he paraphrased the next line of the song in a sarcastic monotone. "Well, did you ever?" He raised his glass to toast. "What a swell party that was."

Steve, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to be musical; and his writer's mind buzzed, inventing new verses to Cole Porter's long ago creation: "Did you note that poor, dear Mitch," he paused to keep the song's meter, "was inflicted with jock strap itch?"

Jess sputtered the swallow of beer he'd just taken, almost choking at the newspaper mogul's name being 'taken in vain.' He managed again to rasp out a "well, did you ever," but the beer that had gone down the wrong pipe made him dissolve into a fit of coughing.

"Did you hear that Gergenheim…" Steve continued, still in tune, "Shoot-how'm I gonna make that rhyme?"

"Huh!" Jess managed, though still with a roughness in his throat.

"Grime?" Matt suggested cheerfully.

Jess shook his head, but didn't have the vocal capacity to point out the meta-ness of the second line. He may not have been willing to sing, even if it were presently  _possible_ , but it didn't keep him from trying to make up a verse about Monty.

"Slime!" Matt piped in again, pleased with every derogatory word he could connect with his nemesis's monicker.

Chris may not have known the song, but he'd gotten the general melody and could pick up the meter easily. "Fill my shoes is Monty's call - but Daddy's shoes are a tad too small." He tipped a nod at his best friend.

The look on Matt's face acknowledged the simultaneous slam and compliment that had little to do with his size 13 feet.

Nobody spoke or sang the short chorus; but Chris was on a roll. "All agreed it was a gas - when Mariano kicked Jerry's ass."

" _Well, did_  you  _evah!_ " Steve gave the line for the first time in musical form. "What a swell party this is!"

* * *

_The Wibbly Wobbly_  was filled mainly with Friday night locals. Sojourners such as themselves were easily identifiable by the camera flash going off by the restroom...which looked very much as if it was  _bigger on the inside._ The speciality drinks on the menu were libations named for characters and...actual...drinks from Sci-Fi cult classics like  _Doctor Who_  and  _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ -and from the list of ingredients in each, any one of them would make you the proud owner of a clanging, throbbing head, come morning. Jess ordered a beer and planned to cradle it for awhile. That was, until Matt put four shots on the table for them.

"Raise your glasses," he instructed.

Jess swallowed the shot and washed it down with his beer. "What the hell was that?" he winced, as the liquid settled in his stomach.

"Four Horsemen," Chris answered.

"One part each of Jim, Johnny, Jack, and Jameson," Matt added with an amused look.

"Well, that certainly could herald the coming of the end..." Timmer deadpanned and then swallowed his shot.

"You'll be fine. It puts hair on your chest," Chris quipped, slapping Jess heartily on the back.

"Which you'll promptly wax off again," Matt ribbed Chris and got a Gibbs-slap for his troubles.

"Right, I'll remember that when I'm hungover tomorrow," Jess rolled his eyes and then ordered some garlic fries, in hopes of soaking up some of the four horsemen, thus lessening the likely inevitable hangover.

"You have the day off, so I'm definitely not worried," Matt put in. "Such a lightweight."

"Too much working for one so young," Chris stated, patting Jess paternally upon his curly pate.

"Would you get off that?" Jess answered, waving his hand away.

"He's just a wee wittle baby," Matt cooed as if speaking to an infant, which he knew had a particularly nails-on-chalkboard effect on his younger co-worker.

"Never has any fun. This is the first time we've gotten him to come out with us since he's been of legal age."

"You keep at him like this, it's likely to be the last," Steve said quietly, noting Jess' discomfiture.

"Almost offsets both our hungover asses," Chris grinned.

"Yeah, next time Monty starts in with the 'you're lazy' speech, I should just hand over Jess as the 'good son' he never had." Matt was silent for a moment while the alcohol settled."So," he said to Steve, "as per the concept that was so frequently important while we were in college-and your idea, might I add-I'm calling in a favor from that one time."

Steve raised an eyebrow, "Only the one time?"

Matt made a  _mas o menos_ hand gesture before continuing. "On the generally fairly infrequent, but recently, due to extenuating circumstances, not-nearly-as-infrequent occasions that we-we being me, Chris, and anybody else-go out to an establishment which serves copious quantities of fermented beverages, with the intent of at least one of us becoming fermented ourselves, we make it a practice to appoint a designated adult. This person may or may not be driving, depending on transportation arrangements; but they are the person who sees to it that everyone winds up safely in their own bed, come morning."

"So, what you're saying is that other people's beds are off limits to drunks," Steve observed, "got it. Should follow that one myself..."

"Well, if the people whose beds they are, don't want drunk people in them…"

"Quite true, quite true. A basic principle for life, drunk or sober."

"In any case, Chris is due for a night off, because he's been dealing with my heartache and the need for drowning. Jess finally turned twenty-one; and he's been an awfully good sport, since up till now he was the only one of us who was only half-a-legal-adult, and so he couldn't be un-adult like us-"

"Plus, I was too busy working late night shifts at the diner; so I was only free in time to pick your asses up," Jess interrupted to point out.

"Yes, you're very smart. Shut up." Matt didn't even look in Jess' direction as he spoke, making the aside land perfectly before resuming his monologue. "-whereas you have  _been_  an adult long enough to presumably not have been called to  _action_  for some years now. So hereby and forthwith, you are designated to do any and all adult-like things… including, but not limited to: herding the cats home at the end of the night; and making sure we don't puke into anything important; or walk into anything abruptly deep; or do anything that would cause us or our families to deeply regret our actions or our very existence."

Chris leaned in. "It's an experience he's rather experienced in." He paused. "Preventing us from waking up behind bars of either variety, also much appreciated."

Steve put his hand over his heart, "I shall be your adult...just don't puke on me."

"More than fair," Jess piped in.

"Good...now let's teach our livers to swim!"

The waitress brought a round of beers for the table and water for Steve. Granted, the round still consisted of four beers, as Matt had announced with great melancholy that he would be  _drinking for two tonight_.

"She said she didn't know what she was doing till it was too late…" Matt announced to the table after downing his first drink.

Timmer leaned over. "Who?" he whispered to Jess, confused.

"Cheating ex," Jess explained; and Timmer nodded, trying to follow along with the drastic change in subject.

"She was hot too, I should have known I couldn't keep someone that hot interested," he rambled.

"We've been over this," Chris jumped in, having been the one to babysit Matt while he's nursed his broken heart. "The cheating makes her less hot."

"How can you not know? I mean, cheating just isn't an accident," Matt stopped his rambling again while Chris, Jess and Timmer looked at each other. Matt looked up at the décor, his voice rather whiny. "Maybe, I should hitch a ride with The Doctor so I can go back to the day I met her and stop myself."

"Messing with the fabric of space and time so that you don't get your heart gobsmacked...tricky business... Better send me, so you don't end up meeting yourself. Or...better still, send Timmer. 'Cause if I meet you, I'll end up meeting me, and cause some sort of a vortex, or raptors or something."

"As long as you don't get close to baby!you, it probably won't cause raptors, or at least not get everybody eaten by them. Maybe you could make it so that  _my_ dad gets run over by the car in place of Rose's. Two birds, one stone."

"Besides, I might accidentally get your folks back together in an alternate dimension; and think what a mess  _that_  would be!"

"Who'd she cheat with?" Timmer asked, bypassing the talk of time and space for the present.

"Some rich jerk with a trust fund," Matt answered bitterly.

"Wait, don't you  _have_  a trust fund?" Timmer inquired, knowing vaguely the family background, as consequence of the necessary-evil industry  _swell parties_  they both were required to attend.

"That I don't have access to for another four years; and  _I'm_  not a jerk."

"But Mattie... Matthew, Matt…" Chris almost whimpered the name, beseechingly. "Megan? So not worth screwing with the space-time continuum over..."

"I thought you just wanted to  _not_  be part of the wibbly wobbly..."

"Time travel-amazing stuff, count me in. Just on general principle, though… Somebody who cheats that easy, isn't worth  _your_ time, much less the universe's!"

Steve stood up, presently the only man at the table who could safely do so with complete impunity. "Well gentleman. I had two purposes and two purposes only for coming to this bar tonight: ONE, to snog Madame du Pompadour; and TWO, to drink a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. Now, as you've no doubt noticed, I have thus far been denied any snogging-and you three have declared me to be the responsible adult since you have clearly gone beyond the point of responsible adulting-whereas I just talk this way all the time. SO, the conclusion of the matter, everything having been heard IS, SOMEONE has to drink a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster in my stead. Who's the lucky chap going to be?"

"'Not I,' said the cat," Chris mumbled, head cradled in one hand.

Just because..." Matt slurred, "they serve a Pan Galactic Garblewhatser-"

"Gargleblaster," Steve corrected.

"Garbleblaster," Matt repeated, clearly not hearing the difference, "what makes you think they have Madame du Pompadour?"

"Time And Relative Dimension In Space, gentlemen. I pop off...take the TARDIS for a spin, 18th century France, find Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, rescue her from the slow path, bring her to Ten on June 02, 1953, Elizabeth II's coronation-she'll be so grateful she'll snog me on the spot, no twirling through fireplaces necessary!"

Jess stared at Timmer in a blank kind of way, fuzzily pondering how and why Louis XV's chief mistress had entered the conversation, and whether the alcohol had more seriously affected his grasp of the English language than he'd previously thought, or Timmer, was less sober than he thought.

"All right," Matt conceded, as if making a great sacrifice. "I shall  _BLAST and GARG- GARB- GARGLE!_ "

" _Bless you, my son!_ " Steve looked touched. "You shall now, according to the legend of the tome, know the sensation of 'having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick'."

Chris looked up foggily. "Are we certain this is an experience one would wish to experience?"

Matt looked at him soberly, at least in one sense of the word. "There is only  _one way_ to find out and I shall make the journey, though I may perish in the attempt."

Jess would have shaken his head at Matt's idiotic bravery; but at the moment, it felt as if that would cause it to fall off and roll across the floor.

When the waitress came to their table, Jess said he'd have, "just a… just a Coke."

Matt gave him a look. "Uhhhh… you want some Jack in that?"

"I'm officially wibbly and wobbly enough for one night," he mumbled. "From here on out, I'll be sacrificing virgins."

That sounded better before it came out of his mouth. Especially considering the dirty look he got from the waitress.

"Mental note:" he observed to the tabletop in a muffled tone, "attempts at wit and drunkenness are an overrated mix."

How or what happened next would be up for debate for many years to come, between Matt, Chris and Jess. All that could be agreed upon was that when the next round arrived, somehow Jess took a large swallow of the Pan Galactic Gargleblaster in place of his own innocuous order, despite the fact that the glasses were clearly distinct.

The second the alcohol hit, his head felt lighter and looser... as if it were about to float off somewhere away from the rest of his body; and he craved a cigarette. Luckily, he had a pack...but not a lighter...he needed a lighter...so he grabbed his cell phone and went to find one.

He found his way into a bodega and bought the lighter; but he couldn't remember which way he came from. So, while he was outside anyway, he smoked a cigarette; and then another, and another, letting the time pass and hoping that he would somehow figure out what direction he had come from.

Left or right? He didn't know. He hadn't crossed the street walking there...he hoped. "Excuse me," he said after he bumped into a lady who was coming from the opposite direction while crossing the street after all, because he probably  _did_  cross the street at some point.

He continued meandering...stumbling...staggering down the street until his mind did a backflip, and it occurred to him that he was in New York...well, Brooklyn, but  _The City,_  and getting a desk summons was the last thing he wanted, today or any day. He vowed that he would never give the NYPD another reason to throw him in the drunk tank...which is where they put him the night he was arrested...and the drunk tank, when you're sober, is...not fun. Not that being drunk in the drunk tank sounded like much fun either.

So he hailed a cab to get him back to the bar.

"Where're you going, son?" the cab driver asked.

* * *

As the last kernel of corn popped inside the bag, Lorelai sat down next to Rory so they could finish their episode of  _Bridezilla._ Just when Rory was about to hit  _play,_ an obnoxiously loud buzzing noise caused them both to jump. Rather than the giant bumblebee it sounded like, Lorelei realized it was Luke's phone sitting on the counter.

"It's seriously useless to own a cellphone if you never have it on you," she mumbled. "Where's area 412?"

"Philadelphia."

Lorelai smothered a laugh and answered the call. "Chicken Ranch," she began with a high, falsetto breathiness, "This is Lola." She smiled mischievously, wanting to have a little fun with her soon-to-be nephew.

"Uh, sorry, wrong number." Jess hung up.

Lorelai stared at the phone. "He hung up on me."

"Well, you said you were Lola."

"Oh, he's calling back," she said, and answered the phone again, "Sleepy Hollow Mortuary-casket or cremation?" she asked brightly.

" _Huh?_  What the-?" Jess said, and hung up a second time.

"He's generally brighter than this, right?" Lorelai asked Rory.

"I always thought so," Rory answered as the phone buzzed again.

"Madame de Sade's House of Pain-how may we service you?"

"Mom!" Rory exclaimed.

"He just hung up that time."

"Why wouldn't he?"

"I keep hoping he will play ball with me, and he won't. That one was obvious, SO many places he could have gone!"

"It's after midnight, did it occur to you that he might have a reason for calling?" Rory asked.

"Okay,  _if_ he calls back, I will play it-" she didn't have to finish her sentence as the phone buzzed again.

"Rory thinks you have a reason to be calling this late and won't let me play anymore," Lorelai pouted into the phone.

"Lorelai?" Jess sounded frantic.

"Yes," she answered, turning serious.

"Is Luke there?"

"He went to change a tire for Liz and TJ who were on their way home."

"Oh," Jess answered, sounding dejected.

"Is there something you need? I know I'm not Luke, but he does use my spatula when he spends the night."

" _Dirty!_ " Rory whispered, and Lorelai waved her off.

"I...I...well...I," Jess stammered. "I...have a prob- _lem,"_ Jess slurred. "I'm lost, well not lost completely, exactly. I just don't know where I am. Which I guess by definition means I'm lost. Or, I mean, I know where I am, I just don't know where I'm supposed to be going. Which is a really good metaphor right now, I just don't have a pen..."

Lorelai nodded her head, having never heard him say that many words in a row. "O- _okay_  and how is Luke supposed to help with this predicament?"

"I was hoping I told him where I'm supposed to be…"

"Okay," Lorelai covered the phone, "I think he's  _drunk!"_ she stage-whispered, "Or has suffered a sharp blow to the head," she said to Rory, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and amusement, "could be both." She continued to shake with silent laughter at the new, ramble Jess toy. "This is so much better than Lola!"

"And my phone isn't working. Every time I try to make a call, I cut myself off."

"You successfully called here four times."

"Yes, but… I keep calling  _me,_  and I don't know  _why!_  And Luke's phone is the only contact with a name… Somebody has been screwing with my phone… probably Matt because, he's Matt."

Lorelai put the phone on mute, "He rambles, I didn't catch any of that. Something about his phone is being weird and Matt and...I didn't know he could talk that much…"

"Are you sure he's okay?" Rory asked, worried.

"Jess, please tell me you're not driving! And, please pull over if you are..."

"I have a cab - I mean, it's not  _my_  cab; it's the driver's cab; but I'm in it… and it's probably costing a fortune. Because I'm driving him in circles and he's probably plotting my murder, or I'm going to become an anecdote for the company Christmas party as the idiot who managed to get lost in the neighborhood he spent growing up in, and I'm never going to live this down… I'm going to get kicked out of New York. It's gonna disown me and force me to call it  _The Big Apple!_ I'll have to live in  _Jersey!_ This can't be happening..."

"Okay, slow down…. You're in New York, in a cab."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," he returned, causing Lorelai to scowl and splutter at the same time.

"Hey! I'm trying to help you here! Can't you see the street signs?"

"Yes. And, naturally, they tell me where I'm  _going!"_ he groused.

"The sarcasm is strong with this one," she muttered, "and is not helpful. Okay, you got in the cab. Did you know where you were supposed to be going when you  _got_  in the cab?"

" _No!"_

"Well, then  _why_  did you get in a cab?"

" _So I wouldn't wind up in the drunk tank!_ "

"Good. Right. Sound reasoning, considering drunkenness…" Lorelai nodded, seeing Rory's manner half dying-of-laughter, half concerned.

"I  _can't_ wind up in the drunk tank…" His tone indicated that he hadn't even registered her last remark. "I don't  _drunk!_  I  _never_  drunk... I… that's not… I don't  _let_  me…"

Lorelai wanted to mock; but he was all of a sudden sounding like a scared little boy.

"Because if  _I_ drunk then there's nobody to take care of… of… my mom…"

Lorelai's mouth went dry. "Luke is with your mom, Jess. She's fine. You only have to take care of you right now. Are you staying in New York tonight, or heading back to Philadelphia?"

"No! It's  _not_  just  _me!_ They don't  _know_  New York! And Matt's got an expensive watch-the wrong alley and he'll lose a hand, or… bad, lots of bad things. Chris might  _look_  like he can handle himself; but they'd chew him up and spit him out; and Nolie won't ever  _forgive me!_ And  _Steve_  is a wild card. I don't even  _know_  him except for  _movies! I_  was supposed to be the one!"

The rambling thing stopped being funny. "The one who what, Jess?"

"Who  _knew_  where we were going and where it was safe! And now I don't remember the hotel; and I lost them; and I call and get messages from people instead of answering or voicemail-and I'm  _CALLING MYSELF! AGAIN!-I swear this is the Twilight Zone!_   _Rod Serling is doing a voice-over, over top of me, right now!"_

"Okay-calm down. Deep breaths. Panicking is not going to fix things. Where did you see them last?" She only recognized a couple of the names he'd mentioned; but she had to talk him through this.

"The  _bar!"_

"Now we're getting somewhere," Lorelai sighed with relief. "What bar?"

" _I don't know!_ It's wobble-windey- something with double  _Ws_ that sounds like it's already drunk."

"Oh boy, here we go again…"

"If I knew where it was, I wouldn't be in a cab! I wouldn't be in this mess... I wasn't supposed to cross the street; but I  _did_  and now I'm  _lost!"_

"Um... you're a big boy, Jess. You're allowed to cross the street all by yourself. Now think: Where was the bar when you last saw it?"

"That's not what I  _meant_ ," he grumbled. "The world flipped upside down when I crossed the street, and I can't find anything anymore and I don't wanna go to jail or kill my friends!"

"Jess, why don't you call  _them?"_ Lorelai reasoned in a calm tone, trying to help him center himself.

" _That's_  what I keep  _trying_ to  _tell_  you!  _The phone is broken! It won't call them! It only calls Luke; and shows alternate dimension me, or future me, calling now-here-this-dimension me. And I don't know if it's drunk or I am!"_

Lorelai leaned her head back in frustration, putting her free hand to her forehead; but Rory, who'd stood up a couple of minutes before, and now held her ear close enough to the phone to make out most of what he was saying, went quickly wide-eyed with a hushed, " _Oh!_ " She dug around in her pocket, pulling out her phone and quickly dialing.

"Who are you?" came a voice on the other end, almost immediately. She stepped into the other room.

"I'm Rory. Who are you?" she said quietly so that Jess wouldn't accidentally overhear.

"Matt… Why are we whispering? And how come you're a girl?"

She didn't know how to answer the second question, but addressed the first. "You don't have to whisper; I do. I'm calling to-"

"We didn't know Jess knew girls. We thought he moved here straight from a monastery. Vow of celibacy and code of silence intact."

Rory's lips twitched. "Jess has your phone."

"And I'm talking on his-yes, we know," Matt replied, only slurring slightly.

"I just need to know where you guys are-and where you're staying, and if you can get there safely," Rory said, trying to express herself clearly for to the inebriated man on the other end of the line.

"Why, do you want to come over? Are you hot? You sound hot. Do you have friends? Are they hot? I'm single. My girlfriend of eight months cheated on me with some rich piece of..."

"Okay, I need the address please...can you perhaps give the phone to someone who's capable of getting me that information," she asked with a growing sense of seriousness.

"You need to talk to Steve, he's our designated a- _dult_. His job is to prevent us from stupidity or doing such that would cause one to be arrested for gross negligence of adulthood...even though I really do want to fly the TARDIS bathroom…"

"O...kaaaaay," Rory heard herself reply.

"...and I keep telling Steve that all of the Doctors are grown-ups. So… I'm right.  _I think she want's to talk to our designated adult!_ " Matt said loudly enough that Rory held the phone away from her ear.

"Hello," came another voice. "That was Matt. He is very drunk, if you didn't gather that. I'm sober, although I may not always sound like it."

Rory sighed heavily.

"Okay. I'll sound sober."

"This is Rory Gilmore," she said in an exasperated tone. "First, I need to know whether you can get yourself and your companions back to your hotel safely."

"Um," the man began, "I live in New York, so I'm not staying at a hotel; but I  _can_  get these guys safely to their hotel as soon as we figure out where one of them went. You take your eyes off them for a  _second…"_ he bemoaned jokingly.

"Jess?"

"Yes! Yes, it's Jess, the one who's missing."

"Jess is driving around in a cab because he can't find his way back to the bar, and he doesn't know where they're staying."

"Ohhh, so that's where our wandering parakeet got to."

"And here you thought he was out dictating incriminating newspaper articles in between hiccups," Rory replied irritably.

"Wow… matched set. It now makes sense that you're the one he'd call."

"What does  _that_  mean?" she asked more snappishly than she'd intended.

"Oh-nothing important. I'll see if I can get anything coherent out of these two so Jess can stop wasting cab fare."

"Thank you." Rory leaned her head back as the voice of the man on the other end of the phone went muffled.

Meanwhile, Lorelai had gotten the cabbie on the phone, trying to at least find out where Jess  _had been_  when the cab picked him up. She managed to get that the poor man's name was Lou, he had been a cabbie for nearly twenty years, he grew up in Brooklyn, and he hated drunk people.

Somewhere halfway through a rant about trying to get destinations, directions, and correct change from drunk people without getting any of their bodily fluids on the upholstery, Jess apparently took the phone back, and had crumbled still further into incoherency and paranoia, afraid that Lorelai would think he was "some kind of closet slobbering drunk" and Luke would be ashamed of him, and Rory would never speak to him, and "everyone would be right about [him] all over again."

"Mom, here," Rory said, handing her mother a scrap of paper, once the muffled voices ceased and the  _designated adult_ had given her the address. "This is where they are staying. I talked to some guy named Steve. They are leaving the bar now and will hopefully meet him at the hotel."

"Oh wow…that was...that was Rory voice…" there was a sleepy kind of nostalgia to the way he said this, "I maybe won't ever get to hear it again… or see her eyes sparkle… like sunshine on...sparkling and reflecting on see through ocean waves- _man,_ that's  _cheesy!_ I shouldn't  _ever_ write that down…"

Lorelai glanced worriedly at her daughter's face, unsure how much of that she'd caught.

"What's he talking about?" Rory whispered.

Her mother shrugged, covering the mouthpiece again. "Which similes he should or shouldn't include in his next novel."

Rory smiled. It was the kind of smile prompted by a six-year-old's finger painting; but it was still a smile.

Lorelai decided it would be better to cut short the babblings of the boy's loosened tongue before he started spilling military secrets. "Jess, give the phone back to the cab driver, we have the address."

Jess did as instructed, Lorelai relayed the address, and then the cab driver handed the phone back to Jess.

"Rory just talked to some guy named Steve and they are going to meet you at the hotel…"

"Stevvve? Steve's a good...a gooood guy," Jess said as if he was falling asleep while he spoke.

Lorelai's head dropped, having almost forgotten what it was like to "watch" already consumed alcohol progressively catch up with someone. Rory was simultaneously filling in whispered details of her conversation with the men Jess had left at the bar. "Okay, Jess, stay with me another minute or two, if you can. You have your friend Matt's phone; and he has yours."

"Whaa…?" he paused foggily. "Rooouuund and rounnd and roooound she goes... but where she stoppps, noooobody knoooows…"

She wondered if his mind had gone to the dance marathon, and whether that had something to do with his phone… or with anything at all.

* * *

Jess woke up laying on his side. A towel propping his head up and glass of water next to him. The cold linoleum under him and the banging in his head...or the door.

"Wake up," Chris yelled. "It reeks in here, Mariano," Chris yelled as he shut the door.

Jess grunted, slowly got to his feet, and stumbled out the door to the couch, where he promptly went back to sleep ignoring painfully echoing comments about smashing heads with lemons and bricks.

He woke up again a few hours later. A large glass of water, a plate of food, and his cell phone sat on the table. He was drinking the water, when the night started to come back to him.

The blinking light on his phone indicated he had a missed message:

_Hi Jess, this is Lorelai. I hope you're okay. I'm sure everything worked out. I hope it did. I know you got back to your hotel safely. Your friends called us back. Drink some water._.. _and...uh...take care…. Bye._

His friends called  _them_  back…  _uggghh…_ the party, meeting Monty, Steve singing, the pizza, Jerry Gergenheim, the bar, leaving the bar, the cab, Lorelai... and he felt sick, again. But this time around, it wasn't the remnants of last night's lethal cocktail of hooch that had him retching into the toilet-he had done that upon his return to the hotel room. It was the knowledge that last night was a mask for all of the things in his life that had been blindsiding him, one after the other. It was the fact that he'd been telling himself and everyone else he was fine with all of it. He had everything under control. He was dealing. He was coping. He could handle this. He...was puking his guts out. He was not...okay.

Jess closed his eyes, hoping for a moment's release from the aching in his body-head throbbing, heart pounding, tears streaming down, throat raw. He opened them again, knowing what he needed, the kind of relief he really sought. He showered and dressed, making his way uptown to a familiar brick building. Standing before the grey door, he took a deep breath, daring himself to knock, and exhaling slowly.

"I need to talk," he said to the tiny, red haired woman in the door frame.


	21. Pizza Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I want for Halloween is reviews...and a kit kat...but mostly reviews.
> 
> Enjoy. Reviews are coffee to the soul.

_And once the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about."_

~ **Haruki Murakami**

"Jess?" Doris asked in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk," Jess repeated, as Doris stood aside and he walked into her office.

"Was I expecting you?"

"Rory...dropped out of Yale," he continued, "and apparently I was the kick in pants she needed to go back. Also, she stole a boat, was arrested and sentenced to community service. Then she goes and buys me a bunch of new clothes, which-who does that? So apparently we're friends again, except I had to fight every urge not to kiss her…or worse, make some big, dumb, sweeping, romantic gesture that I would screw up and regret."

"Okay," Doris said calmly, "why don't we make an appointment? I haven't had a day off in a week, and I skipped lunch today, so you'll have to come back."

"Guess who I ran into?" he ignored her, his desperation drowning out his usual responsiveness, some called it over-responsiveness, to the needs of others, rather than his own. "I mean literally ran into the guy at the laundromat! First time I've seen his face since he was punching mine and then ran out when the cops came, and now I almost run the guy down with a  _laundry_  basket-"

"You can come in anytime next week," she said, looking him up and down, taking note of his disheveled appearance.

"I have a sister, she's twelve," Jess started pacing the floor. "She's Jimmy's and he doesn't even know it yet. But guess who agreed to make the  _twelve stinking years belated_  birth announcement?"

"Okay," Doris conceded, "I'm going to go grab a pizza. I need to eat, and you clearly need to talk. I am too tired to have my therapist's hat on straight and in fully functioning order; so if you want to pay me in pizza or monopoly money, I will not complain. And drink that, you reek of last night's speakeasy."

Jess stopped pacing the floor and tried to say something, but was cut short as Doris thrust a glass of water into his hand.

"You should follow me before I change my mind," Doris opened the door to her office.

Jess nodded and gulped down the water, depositing the glass hurriedly on the counter before Doris locked the door and closed it.

They walked around the block to a pizzeria and ordered. After paying for the pizza, taking an order number, and settling into a booth in the corner, away from the crowds of people coming in and out, Jess filled Doris in on the events of the last several months.

"Don't just sit there, keep talking," Doris admonished when Jess hadn't spoken in a few moments.

"This is usually the part where you have some wise words for me; then I'm supposed to make some deep discovery."

"No," Doris corrected, tiredly. "You said you needed to talk, so talk. I don't really have the energy or mental acuity to drag deep, emotional epiphanies out of you at the moment. Just keep the words coming; the insights tend to happen by themselves."

Jess paused as Doris ate her pizza. She clearly intended to wait indefinitely for him to resume his narrative.

"I don't even know what more to say," Jess puffed out, staring blankly.

"So, Jimmy has another kid… which means you have a sister…" she prompted, taking a sip of her soda.

"That's what the DNA test says," he paused for a moment, thankful for a starting point. "And, I mean… April's mother, Anna-she knew...that whole time. She knew her daughter was Jimmy's kid. And  _boy,_  did  _she know Jimmy._ They may have only had a summer fling, but she knew…" Jess paused, unable to form the right words, " _She_  knew stuff about Jimmy I've never talked about with anyone but  _you_." His eyes dropped. "In some ways, she knew more about him than I did."

Doris watched him as he spoke-saw him swallow.

"But it's more than that. It's April. She's… she's got this mop of brown, curly hair...and a lisp." From the choke in his voice, it was clear this girl was more to him than the abstract concept of a sibling-a line on a family tree. "She'll grow out of the lisp… I did eventually." It was strange, but in that moment, it was as if the restaurant, and Doris herself, melted away from his consciousness and he continued in soliloquy...out in an empty field somewhere, maybe. "It's weird, Liz always said I took after my Grandpa Will; but when I look at April, it's  _easy_  to see we're related. And she's  _smart_ ; I mean you would  _have_  to be in order to think of hunting down a  _sibling_  to confirm paternity- _at twelve-_ much less run that kind of tests…" Jess shook his head at just how far  _beyond her years_  April clearly was, both academically and in terms of deductive reasoning.

"That's true," Doris agreed.

His head jerked upward as if abruptly reminded that he was not, in fact, talking to the air. Recovering quickly, he took a short, sharp breath, plowing into the rest of the Gordian knot that was the presence of April in his life. "I have no legal or moral obligation to tell Jimmy about her. I owe  _him_  nothing. I mean, this man had nothing to do with my growing up. He missed all of it." Jess licked his lips and then pressed them together before continuing. "But I  _look_  at her, and… how could I  _not_ protect her from whatever Jimmy might pull? I can't let her go through the same things I did."

"What about her mother? Wouldn't she be there to protect her?"

"Sort of. Anna had to make a hard decision before April was born—the decision to cut this man out of the equation entirely—but she says that April is now old enough to make her own decisions regarding her father… and to live with the fallout. Not that she won't be there for her, but..." Jess bit his lower lip and blinked rapidly. "I've  _been there._ Just standing by and being a shoulder is not enough. She needs somebody who can help her navigate  _Jimmy_ —someone who knows the kinds of things he might pull, and is willing to actually  _step in_  if necessary and go to bat for her."

Doris nodded, "Protecting her is a natural instinct for you," she observed.

Jess scoffed. "Why  _should_  it be?" His eyebrows furrowed, questioning himself as much or more than he was questioning her. "That's not the reality  _I_  knew. As a kid, I had to fend for myself, look out for myself, 'cause nobody was going to do it for me."

"And yet, you  _are_  looking out for April." Doris watched him keenly, even while he stared at the table.

"But, I don't know  _why._  I don't know where that  _comes_ from. I mean…" Jess shrugged, "I know you're  _supposed_  to take care of your family."

"Yes you are," Doris agreed in an echoing fashion, allowing him to continue to talk this out.

"That  _is_ what Luke did," Jess frowned, almost grimaced, pondering this, "not just with what he did for  _me_ when I was a teenager _,_ either _,_ but _..._ I didn't even  _know about_  most of the stuff he did for me and my mom when I was a kid. Some of it I only found out recently. He didn't even think twice about getting my mother out of a potentially abusive marriage-moving her in the dead of night, help with the divorce papers, legal protection, even serving the papers and confronting the guy. After that, he didn't  _hesitate_  to find us an apartment, or make sure our rent got paid when her next boyfriend drained her bank account and took the T.V."

"You didn't know any of the this till recently?"

"I only knew he helped us move sometimes, and that Liz hit him up for rent money. The rest… no," Jess shook his head. "I found out because of April. That's how she found me, from an old court document that came up when she ran a search."

"What kind of court document?"

"Restraining order. The search didn't give her the whole document. Just enough to know it involved domestic violence." His voice betrayed how bitter a pill it had been to swallow that this 12-year-old girl he wanted to protect had found  _that._ "Luke filled me in on the rest."

"Jess," Doris said, hardly able to digest the information she had been given. "As you said, this… dutiful  _protectiveness..._  is not something you learned by example when you were growing up. Luke has a strong sense of family obligation, and he grew up in a situation where he probably frequently had to stand up for his little sister." She paused. "You didn't. And you just said that you didn't even realize Luke  _did_  all of that until recently. You are not  _obligated_  to April…"

"Don't  _you_  say that _, too_ ," Jess snapped, angrily. "Because I  _don't_  have a choice. I can't just  _run_  from her."

"But you  _did_  have a choice," Doris persisted. "And that is the  _point._ You are  _not_  obligated; and yet you feel  _compelled_ to protect her. Instinctively  _compelled."_ She looked at him pointedly. "You once told me that running is what you do  _best_. That whatever the situation, you  _caused_ the problem, you  _were the problem,_ and that removing yourself from the equation was always in everyone's best interest. That, when it came to the way your father left the day you were born… the apple didn't fall far from the tree."

"I ran from Rory, I ran from Luke," Jess backed up the case history for that statement.

"You could  _stop_  taking April's calls...You could give her mother Jimmy's phone number and address, and simply walk away. You could quite easily  _remove yourself from the equation._ But  _you_  have  _already_  made your choice not to run. Instead,  _you are the one_ holding steady.  _You are being_  the stronghold for this little girl."

"I just...I can't...she's…"

"I understand why," Doris said gently, putting her hand on his forearm. "I know every reason why you are willing to be there… but it is  _still_  a  _choice_."

Jess bit his lower lip, his words choked. "I don't think it is."

"And I think that  _proves_  the apple fell further from the three than you thought it did," A smile softened the straight, thin line of Doris' mouth. "Or maybe it rolled closer to the other  _side_  while you weren't looking."

His features took on an odd expression at this, somewhere between the ghost of a smile and a pondering puzzlement.

"Even if you didn't  _find out_  about all the things your uncle did for you and all the ways he demonstrated the conviction that you're  _supposed_ to take care of family until you were an adult; what makes you think that your father is the only person whose instinctual tendencies you may have inherited?"

The lump in Jess' throat swelled and lowered to his chest, turning to a physical ache. His eyes shone even if the tears in them didn't fall. Forming words would have been impossible.

"I don't really  _know_  what I would do if a random family member just showed up and announced she was running a DNA test on me to find her father." Doris paused to make sure she had his attention.

Jess let out a soft, rueful laugh and cleared his throat. "Really?" he rasped. "There's  _nothing_  in your shrink handbook about randomly materializing family members?"

"Nope," she smiled, "They seem to have left that section out of the handbook. In fact, in your shoes, I might end up on a colleague's couch myself."

Jess scoffed.

"It's not a normal, everyday thing," she said, ignoring him. "Maybe there'd be some corollary in psychological literature with reference to adopted children finding their birth families. But, that in itself is an extraordinary circumstance, just as this is."

A server came, delivering beverage refills and necessitating a pause in the conversation. After the perfunctory thanks, and once the server had gone, Doris turned back to Jess.

"What I am trying to say is, I think you have handled this as well, and with more maturity than a lot of people would. You can't control what Jimmy is going to do, or not do; so don't try."

"So, basically, that's it..." Jess took a deep breath. "Keep doing what you're doing, because that's all you can do. Is that your final answer?" he asked, letting a sad smile tip in her direction.

"For the moment, yes," she said, taking another slice of pizza.

Across the table, Jess heaved a large breath, his eyes widening momentarily. "So…" he began, lost again in the sea of his own thoughts.

A large group entered at that moment, settling in at the table nearest them and making enough noise to preclude quiet conversation for a good two-plus minutes.

Once their neighbors had placated their howling child, and one of the couples stopped cackling over some joke they alone seemed to think was funny, Doris cleared her throat. "So…" she picked up for him. "Yesterday, you ran into your ex-roommate's ex-roommate," she prompted, taking a sip of her soda. "What was the guy's name again?"

Jess was grateful that the end of the discussion centered on April wasn't the end of their discussion altogether. He was well aware that he was taxing Doris' mental and emotional reserve at this point; but there was so much that he  _needed_  to talk out, a notion that was entirely new to him and almost certainly Doris' fault. The need was, nevertheless, there; and her question validated that need and gave him permission to go on.

"Darryn or Darryl something-or-other-opolis. I've been trying to forget, and apparently, it's working… or at least it  _was_." Jess sighed, ruefully.

"I know that running into him had to be a jolt to your system; but… it sounds like it was just as much of a jolt to his. Doesn't sound to me as if he's out for blood or holding any kind of grudge. More like, he's still running like a scared rabbit."

"Yeah, I guess," Jess conceded, tilting his head briefly.

"So—you got shaken by a brush with a spectre from your past. Happens to the best of us. Afterward, you went out and had a few drinks-am I getting this right?"

"I just...yeah...I wanted to forget, not think anymore. I needed to not be weighed down by everything." Jess heaved a sigh, still reeling a bit from the previous topic and trying to settle into the new one. He scowled into his glass of Coke. "I don't remember a lot. I just know that I was an idiot last night. A big, massive  _moron_ …"

"Okay, stop right there. I'm not going to listen to your self-deprecation. Call a spade a spade. You had some stressful things happen, and you cut loose by having too much to drink - and that's it; not to mention suffering the massive headache and nausea that almost inevitably go along with using that kind of outlet.

"Look, Jess, I'm not going to lie to you—you need to be careful; both of your parents have issues with alcohol. But with that said, you went out with friends, after a work event, and had quite a few drinks. You didn't get behind the wheel of a car, you didn't beat anyone up, pee in public, get arrested for drunk and disorderly, or need to have your stomach pumped because of alcohol poisoning."

Jess glared at her, and then rolled his eyes, "That's a great  _comfort_."

"You said that you made an idiot of yourself last night. And earlier you intimated that you were afraid that after being reminded of your alcoholic father, you started to behave like he would have," she summarized. "So you lost your phone and the name of your hotel. So what? I know people who can't navigate their way through a shopping mall or remember their own phone number stone, cold, sober. Drunk people at least have an excuse for their lousy sense of direction."

Doris took a deep breath and cast a glance into the dark eyes of the young man before her. "Personally, I always figure that, barring those genetic factors coming into play, or a person being simply reckless by nature, the combination of a hangover and shame over whatever happened the night before is enough to keep most people from making over-drinking into a regular habit. But this incident has obviously got you worried."

She saw Jess gulp, and he nodded without uttering a sound.

Doris leaned forward, her arms resting from elbow to wrist on the table, before asking him in a low, serious tone, "Is this something you do...all the time, Jess? Has it  _already_  become habitual?"

"What?  _No_ ," he answered quickly.

She gave a quick nod. "On the occasions when you  _do_  drink, do you tend to keep on drinking until you black out?"

"No..." he intoned, slowly.

"Do you hide your drinking?" Jess glared at Doris while she continued, "Do you drink to avoid your problems?"

"I guess... last night I did…" he trailed off.

"Okay, but is that how you handle your problems on a  _regular_  basis?"

"No." He paused, looking dismally across the table into the beady, bespectacled eyes that had seen through him so many times.

"Okay," she nodded, "That's good. I have to go through the checklist. But  _that—_ the predisposition toward addiction— _isn't_  your primary concern here, is it?" she said, noting the strained looked he plainly wore."So then, why is this bothering you so much?"

"Alcohol is not something I play around with. How…" his voice scraped and cracked, worn thin, "...how was this not just another form of self-destruction? How was last night any different than...  _that_  night?" His words and gaze betrayed a hollow chasm that he usually kept hidden, haunted by the nightmares that had nearly wrecked his life.

Doris drew herself up, sensing the pull of the void Jess felt himself being sucked back into. " _You_  came to  _me._ You  _recognized_ that life might be pulling you under and that you might be about to make some very poor choices. You  _saw_  the red flag, and you put on the brakes voluntarily." She gave him a very direct look. "No one had to do it  _for_  you."

Jess played with his cup, smearing the condensation on the glass as Doris' words swirled in his head.

"I...I guess you're right," he said, "It's progress, at least." After a long moment, he noted that she had polished off the last of her pizza, slurped the bottom of the glass in front of her, and was now at the point where she was chewing ice. Jess breathed a barely audible chuckle. "We should go," he said, turning to get up from the table. "I've taken up enough of your time."

"Wait a minute, I'll walk out with you," she said grabbing her purse and taking the last mouthful of ice.

Jess tipped a nod of thanks to the staff as they found the exit.

"Where  _is_  Truncheon Books? I've never heard of them," Doris asked when they were on the sidewalk heading back to the parking garage nearest her office.

"Philly, but we do a lot of business in the city."

Doris gave him a weird look. "You moved to Philly?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I did. It turned out to be a good move."

Jess chewed on his tongue and scuffed his feet on the concrete a bit in the process of explaining to Doris how he ended up moving, getting his job at Truncheon, and eventually going back to school. He even hemmed and hawed his way through telling her about his upcoming graduation.

"You've turned yourself around. You really have," she said, almost getting misty. "For a lot of people, getting their life together looks a lot messier than before they realized something needed to be done."

"I had to do… something," he said, looking at the ground. "And I got very lucky finding Truncheon," he shrugged. "Matt and Chris gave me a chance."

" _It'_ s  _more_  than luck. Matt and Chris took a chance on you because they saw something in you that you evidently still don't see in yourself," Doris pointed out.

Jess shrugged, swinging a step forward while sinking his hands into his pockets. "I suppose," he mumbled.

"So what's next? Any plans to transfer to a University?"

"Geez, you too?" he scoffed.

"Well, are you?" she questioned.

"Rory asked the same thing," Jess said, rolling his eyes.

"Ah, yes…" Doris responded, taking a deep breath. "Rory—the other piece of this."

Jess stopped walking, standing frozen on the sidewalk and looking at Doris dead on. "She said she didn't say  _no_  because she didn't want to be with me."

Doris blinked at him. "Context," she said blankly. "I realize this is a poignant, potentially life-altering sentiment which she expressed to you, and I hate to admit to not being the omniscient mind-reader with a memory rivaling that of a fictional elephant, but I'm afraid I have to admit to being completely lost."

"Sorry." Jess looked chagrined.

"No, don't be. You're used to me having my notes."

He paused. "When I went to Rory and gave her my idiotic ultimatum… basically, 'come with me right now, and don't tell me no about this unless you just plain don't want to be with me…"

"Ah yes, I remember now," Doris interjected.

"She admitted to me that…" he trailed off.

"That her reply  _wasn't_  a statement meant to cut you out of her life or preclude any potential for a relationship with you in the future...or even the desire for one."

He nodded, the lump returning to his throat.

"That she wasn't rejecting you as a person," Doris finished gently. "Merely the proposal to run away together at that very moment."

They stood, looking one another in the eye.

"Now, I need to ask you the therapist's question that you hate so." She swallowed, ignoring the closed eyes that Jess used to hide the fact that they no doubt rolled behind the lids. "How does that make you feel?"

"I have no  _idea_. You're the therapist." His eyes dodged now.

"Nice try," she said, shaking her head, "Your feelings come from inside  _you_. I have no mechanism to pierce through to your heart and peer inside. Only your mouth, when it manages to function."

Jess closed his eyes, putting pressure on the bridge of his nose to fight off another headache. "I don't know. I guess we're friends. She's one of the few people that I told about April, and she just listened, hasn't asked a lot of questions."

"Sounds like what a friend would do."

"It does."

"Again, how does that feel?"

"It's… I don't know,  _good_ , I guess...to be able to talk about it… to be able to talk to her…freely, if that makes sense."

"It does," Doris smiled slightly. "You don't talk freely to many people. Gaining back a person you once were able to open up to, is an incredible gift. And," she added, "you really do  _need_  to have someone to whom you can talk about suddenly having a sister in your life—about what that  _means_  for you."

"She met April, actually," Jess softly turned the subject without turning the subject.

"Really?" Doris smiled. "How did that happen?"

"Rory was in the diner when April came to see me."

Doris nodded.

"She was helping me with something for work."

"Rory was?" Doris asked for clarification.

"Yeah… long story. But she'd been helping me track something down, bookwise; and she happened to be there when April was meeting up with me at the diner. And… since I'd been telling her about April, I introduced them."

Doris nodded again, slowly. "Sounds like you and Rory have been together quite a bit lately."

Jess shrugged. "Kind of."

"And, I realize that having her friendship back means a great deal to you; but I can't help but wonder… since she told you that she 'didn't say no because she didn't want to be with you,' have you been contemplating getting back together?"

Jess hemmed a bit, unable to form words for a second. "Not exactly…"

"Have you been... dating anyone else?" she inquired, probing subtly, though such a thing was difficult to achieve while climbing cement stairs to the appropriate parking level.

"Haven't had a lot of time," Jess shrugged.

"Except the time you've been spending with Rory." Doris' tongue rested in her cheek.

"And I just haven't met anyone." They reached the floor where both of them had parked and began navigating their way in the direction of their vehicles.

"Well, it's difficult to meet new people if you're spending all of your time with familiar people, doing all the same old familiar things."

Jess scraped his teeth along his bottom lip. "Yeah, I guess." He kicked his foot at a pebble as they walked. "I mean, it's not like I don't  _meet_  people… Truncheon stuff, and out with Matt and Chris. I just… haven't met anyone that I'd consider, I dunno… ' _the one,'_ I guess you could say."

"No one said you had to meet someone you realize is  _the one_  woman you're going to spend your life with before you even consider dating her."

"But a mild interest wouldn't hurt either," he murmured.

"There's been  _no spark..._ with anyone? Really?" she asked, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're not hard to look at, and you have a job. I find it hard to believe that not  _one_  woman has shown the slightest interest; not  _one_  whom you find the least bit attractive..."

"I just… I don't know," his shoulders slumped inward, as he slowed to a stop. "Trust me, I've thought about it, I just...want something that's somewhere in between casual and headed towards the altar...at least, to begin with. No one night stands, don't like the whole meet somebody at a bar, yak it up over drinks..." he grimaced. "Don't wanna say I could care less about getting laid, but... honestly… I could kinda care less about just... getting laid."

Doris laughed. She couldn't help it. "I hear what you're saying."

"And it isn't like I haven't gone on  _a date_. Granted, generally not without considerable coercion, but still, the words  _unmitigated disaster_  have, without exception, applied."

"So. No prospects, just… friendship with Rory," Doris posited.

Again, Jess' throat appeared to go dry. "Something like that," he finally managed to say.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath as if coming to the present. "This is me," he said pointing to his CR-V.

Doris looked up. "No more Ambassador?" she asked with a smirk.

"The engine dropped out of it a few days after I moved."

She stifled a laugh, "Really? It got you to Philadelphia, then the engine dropped out?"

"Yep."

Doris started laughing, a full belly laugh, that filled parking lot and probably could be heard down the city block.

" _What?_ What's so funny?"

"The engine dropped out of your car?" she said, still laughing and now wiping tears from her eyes. "And now you are driving a  _soccer mom SUV_ ," she sighed happily, catching her breath.

"Sure you don't need to be committed?"

"You're a writer and you don't see the irony in that?" she asked playfully, a bright smile spread across her elfin face.

"I don't need to be a writer to see the irony," he grumbled shoving his hands back into his pockets.

"You  _didn't_  let your car come down on you," she said seriously, catching his eye. "You jumped," she said, her voice catching with something close to a sob.

"Doris," Jess said softly, "I…"

"You've come a  _long_  way since the first time I met you," Doris cut him off. "You were an angry, obstinate,  _lost_  kid with no direction and a narrow, cynical view of the world. And just...look at you...you're not that kid anymore," Doris said, her eyes shining.

"Don't go getting sappy on me," Jess rolled his eyes, though his scowl had softened into a pleasanter expression.

"I'm not, just shut up and listen," Doris snapped in a way that had its own bizarre warmth, unique to Doris alone. "A year and a half ago you wouldn't have voluntarily come back here for any reason. You sat on my couch, and you rolled your eyes, and you ground your teeth, and you spat vitriol and sarcastic cynicism from behind the dual shield of your crossed arms and that damned leather jacket—but something must have sunk into your thick head." She stopped, looking him full in the face. "Just look at you. Look at the  _life_  that you've built for yourself…"

Jess stared at his hands, unable to make eye contact with Doris. "I doubt…" he bit his lip, "I doubt I would have if you hadn't—" he began; but she cut him off.

"Everything you are now had to have been  _inside of you already_  for me or anyone to be  _able_  to bring it out. You were ready to make a change in your life… so you did. I can't tell you how many people sit in my office and go through the motions, and then go out and just keep on digging for rock bottom. They never get themselves back up...and..."

"Maybe they  _can't,"_  Jess interrupted.

"That's just it," Doris said, eyes alight. "I can only help someone who has the  _capacity_  for positive change. You, clearly,  _had_ that capacity in full measure. You have done  _spectacular things_ … You wrote a book and got it published for goodness sake, and it's obvious to me that you have come  _so_  far emotionally and psychologically…" she trailed off.

" _But-?_ " he prompted.

"You aren't done yet," she answered simply.

Jess glared at her, "I… I live in Philadelphia," he stammered, not ready to go where this was leading.

"So then  _why_  did you come see me? You  _do_  know there are therapists in Philly."

He looked away from Doris. It was no use mentioning that he happened to be in the city. He didn't need to say out loud that she was the only therapist he would ever dream of talking to.

"You have a phone… I do book telephone sessions with people—frequently, actually—and I'm licensed throughout most of New England."

Jess glared at her, unable to form a response.

"Look, I'm not saying this is something you  _have_  to do. You're not required; there's no judge making you be here. But, you came here with a lot more than one session's worth of issues to talk out. And while you got all or most of them, possibly, off your chest, it would take a whole lot more work than we've been able to do tonight, to call them resolved. It's entirely your choice. I'm certainly not trying to drum up business. I'm just saying that I can work with you if you like… location, budget, schedule. It's all negotiable. If you want them, you're in charge of the sessions."

His head bowed, the smooth, black pavement absorbing his attention as he pondered the thing she was proposing. "I feel like I'm starting all over," he admitted quietly.

"Far from it." The words were clear and unyielding.

"No use dragging my feet," Jess bit out after a few moments' thought. "I came here because I needed this. Guess I've needed it for awhile now."

Doris continued to let him wrestle with the thought.

"I'll call you," he said, finally.


	22. The Devil Went Down To Philadelphia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N So I got a new job and have been robbed of my writing time, but I'm still very much writing this story and I have something cool coming in the next few chapters that I have been wanting to write since the conception of this story. So enjoy and as always, reviews are coffee to the soul.

" _ **...and Heaven have mercy on us all - Presbyterians and Pagans alike - for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly need mending."**_

_**Herman Melville** _ _**,** _ _**Moby Dick** _

It was rare for Jess to have the apartment to himself; but Truncheon was closed for Martin Luther King Day and Matt and Chris were elsewhere. This state of affairs was fine with him, since he hadn't been home in three weeks and needed to get some things done before classes started the next day.

He paused momentarily, hearing the door open downstairs. But, temporarily shrugging it off, figuring either Matt or Chris was home, he went back to work.

"H-hello… sir," Jess stammered when Landon Montgomery appeared at the top of the stairs. "Matt is out now, but I can call him if you need something."

"No need," Landon smiled. "I came to speak with you."

"Oh, okay." Jess put aside the article he was working on, uneasy at being singled out, but covering it with a veneer of calm.

"Have you eaten lunch? I just got into town and haven't eaten at all."

"Oh, I… just had leftover pizza from last night."

Landon nodded, "You know, It's been ages since I've been in Philly for lunch. There's a place near my old office I used to go to all the time. Join me," the older man said in a way that suggested he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Okay," Jess said, hoping this place was close by so he could finish the things he needed to do before the day was over.

Downstairs, a Lincoln Town Car, complete with driver, awaited them.

They pulled up to an old brick building with the name  _Fine Chops_. "It's named after Larry Fine, one of three stooges," Monty said, as they walked into the opulent restaurant. "He grew up around here, back in the twenties."

Jess nodded, barely listening to Monty as he took in the sights around him, the high ceiling with the sparkling chandeliers, the large paintings. There was no  _Three_   _Stooges_  memorabilia on the wall. Instead, the restaurant had an old Hollywood theme. It was the type of place the Rat Pack would have gone on a Wednesday night.

Jess rolled his eyes- _nobody_  went to a place like this  _all the time_  for lunch. As Jess' seat was pushed in  _for him_  and he opened the menu, he prepared himself for the hard sell, knowing neither the price nor the merchandise.

Twenty dollar appetizers lined the upper portion of the menu. Entree prices were nothing short of obscene. Hooray for the consumption of day old pizza.

"I'm going to cut to the chase," Monty said when the waitress had taken their initial drink order. "My son apparently likes you; and while I have questioned his judgment in the past, I understand  _why_  he is sticking his neck out."

Jess' breath hitched, waiting for the "but."

"I'm just curious what your long-term goals are. Is this a permanent job for you; or do you plan to move on?" Monty asked with the air of a man laying down his first card in a game of chance.

"I don't plan to go anywhere, at least for the foreseeable future," Jess answered as steadily as he could. This was clearly a conversation that called for caution.

"Is this something you could see yourself doing for a long time?"

"Yeah, I think it is," Jess answered, honestly. "I'd like to publish some of my own work again, though."

"Good," Monty said, in a tone that implied he was thinking out loud rather than talking to Jess, then shifting. "Have you considered continuing on with your college education, going for a bachelor's degree? Perhaps even a master's… dare I speak it, even a doctorate?"

"I wasn't planning on going to college in the first place," Jess replied with unvarnished candor.

"It's imperative that a bachelor degree is a part of your future." The statement was both emphatic and carelessly glib, thrown out as a given fact.

"What can I get for you?" the waitress thankfully interrupted them.

"I'll just have the Caesar salad," Jess answered.

"Nonsense," Monty interrupted. "He'll have the Filet Mignon with mashed potatoes and add Oscar, and I'll have the same. We'd also like to start off with the jumbo lobster cocktail."

Jess and the waitress exchanged looks and Jess began mentally calculating totals.

"Okay," she replied, and wrote down the order.

"And Miss," Monty said, stopping her from leaving. "we'd also like a bottle of the Ol' Zine."

Jess was aware that the bottle alone was $72.00.  _What were the stakes here?_ He knew of nothing in his possession or ability that could pay this man the sort of dividends that warranted such extravagant maneuvering.

"Yes sir," the waitress said and left.

"So," Monty interrupted his thoughts. "We were discussing your future," he paused. "You need at least a bachelor's degree if staying in publishing is your long-term plan. An English degree would be all you'd need. I don't care what anyone says, the ability to write, and do it well is an important skill; but you need good business sense in this world, so you'll minor in business. Better yet, minor in creative writing and double major in English and business."

Jess sat in stunned silence as Monty went on, laying out his future as if it were landscaping on a property of his own acquisition.

"You need to go to a four year university. Philadelphia has some very good schools, so you  _could_  stay here, and get your bachelor's degree. But, I can and will see to it that you do still better. Naturally, Truncheon will finance your education. Financially, this will be a simple tax write off; but  _I'll_  see to it that you will not have to pay a  _dime_  out of pocket."

"Why?" Jess interjected, returning cutting to the chase for cutting to the chase. "Why would you do that?" His eyes narrowed, not betraying blatant suspicion, but shrewdness.

"Because you, my boy, are an investment."

"And it's that simple?" Jess asked. "I'm just going to get a degree and Truncheon is going to use it as a tax write off? And you intend to cover the balance...just like that?"

"With the connections I have at my beloved alma mater, you shall go much further than simply a garden variety degree. You will graduate Ivy League—Harvard, and with honors, or I'm much mistaken."

And there was the poison barb—the forty pieces of silver set before him to betray with a kiss. It hissed like a branding iron and caused Jess to wince internally.

"Of course, you would have to agree not to leave Truncheon and not to take a raise or benefits until you have completed your degree and made a substantial contribution to the success of Truncheon Books."

_Oh. Well, naturally…_

"Mr. Montgomery," Jess stammered out. "That's an extremely generous offer, but I can't accept it."

"I think you should reconsider. I'm offering you a once in a  _life_ time opportunity. You're bright, and publishing seems to suit you; but you're very young and  _very_  green."

Jess shifted in his seat, swallowing carefully behind clenched teeth.

"Think about it. Think long and hard before you turn down an opportunity that a lot of people would kill for; because without proper qualifications, you're unemployable outside of Truncheon. I have connections at Harvard that would  _take_  you places. You're old enough to know that it's not  _what_  you know… but  _who_  you know."

"Yes I... definitely am. And I realize that knowing you has already afforded me significant advantages, sir. But to be honest, I value my connection to your  _son_  too greatly to turn Brutus." He looked the older man directly in the eye and spoke again just as he was opening his mouth to do so. "Excuse me," he said quickly, "I need to use the restroom."

When he'd safely rounded the corner, he flagged down the waitress, surreptitiously giving her his bank card, paying the bill in total, tip included, requesting that his portion be boxed up to go.

That "lunch" could serve as at least three dinners before he had to resort to top ramen or macaroni and cheese until his next paycheck.

* * *

Rory had a moment to lay on her bed, and her mind started spinning. She had her first class back at Yale early the next morning along with the appointment with the school psychologist. After conjuring up every image of psychology in her mental fictional card catalogue, from Dr. Scratch-and-Sniff to Ingrid Bergman to Robin Williams, she stopped drumming her fingers on the mattress and picked up her phone.

She hadn't heard from Jess, so she sent him a text message:

" _Dreaded appointment tomorrow...you think I'll get a therapist like you did?"_

" _I'm afraid there is only one Doris...hope it goes well and you don't get a quack."_

Rory laughed at his response, " _Thanks,"_ she sent back and closed her phone and grabbed a book off her shelf. " _Any chance she has a twin? Boris? Noris? Deloris? Morris? Cloris?_

" _Someone would name their kid Cloris?"_

" _Apparently it was good enough for the Leachmans."_

" _So their daughter ended up sounding like Clorox Bleach."_

" _Blasphemy! Besides, if she's a good therapist, I'll be the last one to quibble about names._ _According to you, yours was an absolute miracle worker."_

" _Eh, she was just good at what she did. Even a punk like me knows when to give respect to a tiny little woman with curly red hair and a scary withering stare."_

" _Ooh! You got to see a withering stare after all."_

" _Imagine Mrs. Kim as the ruler of Munchkin Land."_

" _With bright red curly hair."_

" _Yup."_

" _Right okay…"_

" _Things will be fine. Let me know how it goes."_

" _Will do."_

Half an hour later, a knock at the door pulled her out of the novel she was reading. "Fred," she said when she opened the door to the delivery man.

"Rory, I have another one for you. Sign here," he shoved a clipboard into her hands and handed her a large overstuffed teddy bear holding flowers and chocolate.

"Seriously?" she asked the delivery guy.

"He doesn't give up, does he? He must be really sorry."

"He can be as sorry as he wants," she said peevishly, picking up the stuffed bear and bringing it in the apartment.

"I'll see you soon," Fred quipped lightly and took back the clipboard.

Rory rolled her eyes and turned back to her room, picking up her book and rifling through pages, irritated that oversized stuffed animals and lame apologies made her lose both her place and her concentration. Before she was so rudely interrupted, she had actually managed for more than ten seconds together to take her mind off Logan's idiocy and her impending appointment.

* * *

"Hey," Matt greeted Jess after his classes.

Jess nodded and poured himself a cup of coffee and turned on his computer. "Where's Chris?" he asked when he realized Matt was watching a movie on his computer, something Chris despised when they were supposed to be working.

"He left just before you got here. He had a meeting with a painter and then was going to go to the bank, and grab lunch."

"Hmm," Jess nodded, looking through his email and sending off a few quick answers to writers whose submissions he planned to use for the current 'zine.

"You saw her didn't you?" Matt asked, interrupting Jess, "Megan?" he clarified. "That's why you met us downstairs?"

"Yeah," he admitted, confused momentarily as to what Matt was talking about. "I wanted to make sure it was her."

"I knew she was going to be there. It was the first time I've seen her since..."

"You're better off," he cut Matt off.

"I know. Did you notice her date?"

"Who…?" Jess started to ask but was interrupted by Chris walking through the door. He had three paper bags and a stack of mail in his hands. "Lunch," he said, putting paper sack down, first on Jess', and then on Matt' desk.

Chris sat down and opened his sandwich, "You need to go over the piece you sent me this morning," he said, handing it back to Jess.

"What are you talking about? It's perfect."

"Yeah," Chris agreed. "And it doesn't fit our style. So you either need to figure out a way to edit it so it does, or you need to reject it until the author does."

"Doing that would change the entire metaphor he's using and the context of the story."

"It doesn't matter. We have the standards we do for a reason, and consistency in verb tense is  _basic_  and  _important_."

"Another one of our standards is that the  _artist_  is the artist; and the overall feel of  _what_  he is writing supersedes his verb tense issues," Jess argued. "They are a deliberate stylistic choice, aka,  _knowing when to break the rules_. Besides, we can't reject the piece outright. We have a contract with the author to print his work in our 'zine."

"Let me see it," Matt said holding out his hand. He read for a few moments, his eyes lighting up when he finished. "Jess didn't miss anything, but Chris is right," Matt declared. "But editing it any further  _would_  take away from the overall writing."

"So what do you want to do?" Chris asked.

"Keep it," Matt said. "But the next time Oliver submits something, reject it unless he's willing to edit if it's too far from what we would normally run. His contract doesn't force us into publishing sub-standard work."

"Oh," Jess said, swallowing. Every once in awhile his new-man-on-campus status hit him between the eyes. And the fact that it kept being blatantly brought out to him recently—even if Matt and Chris weren't the ones doing it—wasn't exactly helpful.

"And Oliver knows it too; so if he gives you a hard time, hand the phone to me or Chris," Matt added.

"Did the appointment go well?" Matt asked, interrupting the silence that had fallen in the office.

"It was a pile of trash...literally. I know art is subjective, but there was nothing to be subjective about."

Matt laughed. "So, one man's trash…"

"Doesn't make a piece we should feature," Chris finished. "I'm gonna look at another sculpture later. That and maybe one other should be enough to display at our open house."

"Open House?" Jess questioned.

"We're going to have an open house in March," Matt announced.

"Really? Thanks for telling me."

"We just decided this morning. It's becoming a popular practice with some of the smaller publishers in New York, so I figured we should give it a shot."

"We're going to display a bunch of art, and put our books out," Chris added. "We need to tell the average consumer about Truncheon—you know, the people who the buy books."

"Right,  _them_." Jess matched Chris' ironical sarcasm.

"You need to get the 'zine out on time. And we'll probably make a lot of sales that day, so we're going to need an up-to-date inventory report." Chris said. "And you'll have to go through the slush pile to see if there's enough material for an open house 'zine edition. You should add a piece of your own. It's been too long since your writing was a featured contribution. I'm working on a new painting."

" _And_ ," Matt said tentatively, "I know I said last week that there was no looming deadline for Ed."

Jess raised his eyebrow, "But now there is?"

"Well, yes," Matt started. "When we gave this to you, we thought it would be the perfect manuscript for you to get your feet wet because it was simple and there wasn't a deadline; but we need to make a quicker turnaround on the project than I first thought. That's not your fault or anything you did, it's actually my fault..." Matt faded sheepishly.

"How quick?" Jess interrupted.

"I want to send it to the printer in April. And we are looking at a summer release."

"April," Jess mouthed, panic starting to set in.

"You have everything under control though right?" Chris jumped in. "You've been keeping in contact with Ed?" he asked.

"And you're still going out there in the middle of January?" Matt added.

"I have everything under control. He just sent me stuff to look at. But getting sick set us both back."

"This deal has a lot of money tied up in it. For us and Ed and his family."

"I know."

"If there's any issues, we need to be the first to know. We don't want you making any moves without us knowing about it."

"Like when you came to us about Ellen Taylor," Chris added. "You were dead on. I don't know too many people who could pick that out the way you did."

"Right, Ellen Taylor" Jess swallowed. "I'll work it out."

"Why don't you send me what you have? I'll schedule a conference call with Ed and his brother for a plan to finish," Matt suggested.

"We can break things down into a schedule while you two are together so that way you know what you need to accomplish while you're in town," Chris added.

"Was Jerry Gergenheim right?" Jess asked after they had each gone back to their respective work. The question Jerry had raised had been on Jess' mind since Matt and Chris first offered him a job; and even more so since they had promoted him; but it wasn't something he had wanted to bring up, lest it challenge his position there. However, after it had been thrown in his face publicly, and especially after the impromptu luncheon with Monty, he knew he couldn't afford to ignore the issue much longer.

"Probably not, but about what?"

"That I'm not qualified for this position because I don't have a degree."

"No," Chris and Matt said together. "You were trained by us, thus making you qualified for the job," Matt finished. "And you've picked up skills along the way, so it's not like you're completely useless," he smirked.

"Publishing is an apprentice industry," Chris added, "meaning, you're supposed to learn on the job."

Matt tipped his head and proffered an open hand. " _And,_  even though to get your foot in the door, most publishing houses require a bachelor's degree to even be considered, you've already  _got_  your foot in the door."

"And we don't care," Chris added.

"What about somewhere else?" Jess asked uncomfortably.

Chris and Matt exchanged a look.

"There are a lot of Jerry Gergenheims out there," Matt finally said. "You  _would_  have a hard time finding a company somewhere else that would offer you your current position, sans the requisite initials following your name. Industry experience means something; but it might or might not be enough."

"But, again, that doesn't mean a whole lot to  _us_ ," Chris added quickly. "It just means that we want someone with half a brain. Someone who will disagree with me when I get too rigid, or tell Matt to chill out. We can overlook the lack of a particular, oft-times meaningless diploma, for a guy who is a walking book catalog and can pick up editing and industry standard and company-specific grammar concepts like he'd been doing it his whole life."

"Hmm," Jess said processing what they were telling him.

"Why?" Matt asked.

"Just asking," Jess shrugged. "You guys always say Jerry is a blowhard, but—"

"Oh, he is…" Matt interrupted. "He's also the pee-on-turned-bully who's the second smallest kid on the playground. He's scared of the big guys; so he goes after the one kid smaller than him. It also doesn't hurt that he went to school with Dad and they have some stupid long-standing rivalry, the origins of which no one but them knows."

"So in short," Chris interjected, "don't worry about what a jerk like him says. You have nothing to worry about as far as staying at Truncheon is concerned," Chris paused for a moment. "Are you  _considering_  a bachelor's degree?"

Jess shrugged, "Not really." He fiddled with a tchotchke on his desk. "It's just come up a lot," he shrugged. "I...always figured I'd end up doing something more backbreaking—don't really need a degree for that.

"A college degree didn't make me smarter," Chris said. "But my parents had broken  _their_  backs to make sure my sister and I would get to go to a good college—it was never really a question or a choice."

"I never had that," Jess looked away.

"But you do have the choice now," Matt cut in. "Plans change," he grinned. "Maybe your back doesn't have to break as much as you thought."

" _So iM crazy; how was your day?_ " Rory sent Jess in a text, jabbing the send button without seeing her typo until afterward. She swallowed painfully and didn't bother to type a correction. When he didn't respond immediately, she dialed her mom's number quickly to stave off an impending anxiety attack.

With Lorelai, she played the session off as a comedy sketch, with the doctor as a befuddled spaz and herself as a blubbering lunatic.

"Okay. Remember, blame it all on Grandma," were her mother's parting words.

Rory attempted a laugh and a comical "will do," but she could hardly choke it out. When she lowered the phone from her ear, a speech bubble appeared with Jess' name and, " _Wait… what?_ " It took a second for her to remember the message she sent him that prompted the question.

" _Appointment went...bad. I have to go back for eight more sessions."_

Her phone rang, his name flashing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked in lieu of a greeting.

"The whole thing was a joke!" she said, bitterly. "The counselor started in like it was a pop quiz. I got weirdly defensive and wound up crying over coffee and Dean."

There was a pause. "Huh…" the characteristic syllable came over the line. "Well, at least he got you talking," Jess observed with a slight dryness to his tone.

"Not really. I just started ranting and breaking down all over the place. Meanwhile, he handed me Kleenex and looked at me like I had  _two heads_  and was the first psychologically unbalanced person he'd ever come across in his life!"

Jess groaned. "This is the  _Yale_...psychologist?" he confirmed in a pained tone. "You sure they didn't send in a sub with a gigantic brain who usually spends his days studying pink-eyed, white rats, with no human contact?"

"Oh, you've got the guy pegged," Rory sighed with a pathetic puff.

"I mean, I know I'm one to talk on the human contact front; but I didn't study for the good part of a decade or more to be able to help people with their problems—presumably at one of the most prestigious universities in the world, no less."

Rory shrugged, wishing he could see it. "And, so far, you're a good deal more helpful than he is."

"No substitute for a qualified therapist."

"So I've heard. But even though he signed me up for eight more sessions, I'm not likely to be able to verify that statement," her voice caught and she fell silent.

"You are  _not going_  to eight more sessions with this guy. Ask for another counselor," Jess said adamantly.

"I don't know if I can  _do_  that."

"Paying for ivy league, you'd  _better_  be able to do that! Talk to your grandfather. He's the alum, right? If he can't get you, somebody better than  _that_ , then the system's broken worse than I thought."

"Wow…" It was strange to hear Jess talk about universities and the connections her grandfather had. Those were things she'd told him about so long ago she was surprised he remembered the conversations. "He might…" Her voice broke a little and turned whispery. Who would have thought there'd come a day when Jess Mariano would advise her to talk to her grandpa… and it would be she and her grandpa who weren't on speaking terms.

"Are you okay?" Jess asked gently after waiting a moment; and it was only then that Rory realized that she'd trailed off.

 _Am I okay?_  She repeated the question in her mind. Strange question for this conversation. Stranger still after the things she'd ended up saying while she was spilling her guts in front of the incompetent counselor while he watched her bug-eyed. Three boys had blurted out the three words that are supposed to be the most meaningful, life-altering ever spoken. At least, this last time she hadn't gone into instant deep-freeze while he was there in front of her waiting for her to thaw and words to fall from her lips. She had the presence of mind and the irritation of mood to shut him down. That had to be progress, right?

But,  _was that_  something she could share, in any lifetime, with one of the guys who'd been on the other side of those three words?

"Rory?" His concern snapped her out of her thoughts a second time.

"Sorry… I…" she hastened to recover, without the actual ability to do so.

"You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to."

"I…" she hesitated, "I would rather go..." she hesitated. "But not—" she cut herself off, wishing she could be more coherent. "I just need some time to think."

"Okay," he said. "Whatever you need."

"Thank you, Jess. I just… I'll talk to you in a few days," she said before the line disconnected.

* * *

After a long day of classes and work, Jess was setting his alarm for the next morning when he got a text from Rory:

" _Are you there? Can you talk?"_

"Hi," he said when she picked up the phone. "Is everything okay?"

"It's…" she paused. "I'm okay. I just… I don't want to talk about me. How are you? How are your classes?"

Jess took a distressed breath, even over the phone he sensed her agitation, "Oh wow, how am I?" he paused for a moment. "You remember the story about Mr. Scratch and the buried pirate treasure?"

"Did someone offer you buried treasure?" Rory asked with a laugh.

"Uh..well," Jess started, "you could call it that, I suppose." He proceeded to tell her all about his lunch with Monty and its implications.

"So… have you talked to Matt?" There was momentary silence on the line. "You haven't, have you?"

"No…" Jess replied hesitantly.

"Why not?"

"Because his relationship with his dad is complicated. I don't want to screw anything up even worse than it already is."

"Okay, but he's also your friend," Rory reminded him.

"Probably one of the few I have," Jess agreed.

"All the more reason to just tell him what Monty did. If he's your friend, he'll appreciate your loyalty."

Jess paused for a moment, trying to explain. "One night just after I moved here, Liz called and she just… she pushed my buttons and I wasn't nice to her; and when I tried to apologize and actually  _talk_  to her, she shut me out. Afterwards, I was up on our roof; and Matt came out there with a six-pack. We drank the entire thing between the two of us and had an "angry teenager angst-off."

Rory laughed, "You won, right?"

"It was a tie," Jess deadpanned.

Rory let out a low whistle. "I still think you should tell him."

"I don't know," Jess said after a long pause. "Matt has done a lot for me."

"Exactly. Doesn't he deserve to hear this from you? I realize he may be hurt by what his dad's trying to do; but covering it up might be worse in the long run."

"I guess…" Jess conceded reluctantly. "I just don't want to be in the middle of a complicated mess."

"Understandable; but you didn't ask to be apart of it, nor did you go to Monty and ask him to front the money for your education."

"No, I didn't," he sighed.

"Thus the offer from Mr. Scratch," Rory paused. "You're talking to the daughter of Lorelai Gilmore, the queen of complicated teenager/parent relationships. Believe me, after a lifetime of Friday night dinners, I know complicated. But have you considered..." she cleared her throat, "the other part of what he said? Not the financial part or the manipulative part. The part about getting your bachelor's degree?" Rory asked when she spoke up again.

"I don't know, he's the second person in a week to tell me I'm not qualified for the job Matt and Chris freely gave me."

"Hmmm."

"You know how I hated school," Jess started. "That hasn't changed. I just… I guess I went back mostly to prove to myself that I wasn't a loser who flunked out of high school. I mainly went back to get the equivalent of my high school diploma."

"You were never a loser," she paused. "Why would it be so crazy for you to get a bachelor's degree? You told me Matt and Chris wanted you to take classes and that the classes were really helpful for your work at Truncheon."

"But Matt and Chris aren't saying I need to do this; and Monty is only doing this for appearance's sake...and as a chance to stick it to his son."

"Jess, you didn't answer the question."

"I don't… I don't know, I guess it's not impossible. I just… I don't know."

"It's  _not_  impossible," Silence strung over the telephone line for several beats, so she continued. "Honestly, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It matters what you want. It's your decision, your time, your money. And really, for what you're doing, it doesn't matter. You're doing it already without a degree. It won't make a bit of difference. You would have to  _want_  to go  _for you_ , and not anyone else."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "You're right about that."

There was knock at Rory's door. "Hang on, I'll be right back."

Rory set her phone down and Jess could hear faint conversation without being able to make out any individual words.

"Un-freaking-believable! This is the  _second_  one  _today!_ " Rory said when she picked the phone up a few moments later. "He won't stop. He thinks he can hang out by a coffee cart and  _bombard_  me with flowers, candy and fancy fruit from Harry & David. What exactly makes a pear  _gourmet_ anyway _?"_

"Who are Harry and David?" Jess cut in.

"I mean, we fight, he leaves and he doesn't talk to me, then I find out from his sister that we broke up. He didn't even have the nerve to break-up with me himself; and then he decides he wants to make up, and that flowers are going to somehow make it all better." She choked on a sob. "No wonder Yale is holding me to Dr. Shapiro's recommendation," she wiped the tears from her eyes, her voice wobbling. "They said they could force me to take a medical leave of absence from school; and that's pretty much kicking me out of school without kicking me out of school. Won't my mother be  _proud?_ " the tears continued to flow to her chin.

"Is… all that about Logan?" Jess asked for clarification.

"Yeah, I'm pathetic. I shouldn't lay this on you. I'm so... _so_   _sorry_ ," she sobbed.

"It's okay," he assured her.

"No, no, it's not fair to you," she paused, calming down and debating if she should hang up again. She knew Jess. He was selfless enough that he would probably be willing to take on whatever emotional crap she felt the need to unload, even if it was about another guy. But he deserved more consideration than that. Their history deserved more respect than that. Once upon a time she had loved this boy. And they'd shared a tiny sliver of time that was theirs alone.

"You know what I was thinking about the other day?" she asked cautiously.

"Hmmm?" he asked confused by the sudden change in subject.

"Do you remember the night of the Distillers concert?"

"Of course," he answered.

She smiled at the memory. It was one of the few times he'd fulfilled a shmaltzy teenage dream of hers. When she used to go to concerts with her mom… back before she had any boyfriend… she'd see girls standing in the cold of outdoor venues with their boyfriends' arms wrapped around them like a coat. It was stupid. They were stupid. And she'd mentally mock them for the gag-worthy sweetness that poured from their lips, or that shone in their eyes. But she wanted it - deep down. Deep down where she'd never had a dad who held her like that. It was a hidden, gut want. And that night while they watched the Distillers, Jess had been her coat.

"I found the t-shirt you bought me, it was stuffed in a drawer I was going through the other day."

There was a smile in his voice. "I still have mine." Temporarily lost in the happiness of shared recollection, a quietness fell.

"I have to read Ayn Rand this semester," he broke their silence.

"Ha!" Rory laughed. "Have fun with that."

"I still can't get through The Fountainhead… Six tries in this time."

"That is really very unfortunate. You know, I don't think I ever finished The Old Man In The Sea, which is kind of ridiculous since it's practically the shortest thing Hemingway ever wrote, if you discount the legend of the six-word story and his terrible poetry phase; but I did read The Sun Also Rises for a literature class."

"Really?" He asked amused. "And you enjoyed it, it's okay to admit it."

"I...uh…" she started to say. "Hemingway is still painful, I just didn't detest the whole thing," she paused. "I still had the copy you wrote margin notes in and used them for my final paper for the class."

Jess laughed, "And how useful were they?"

"They were very useful, thank you very much. My professor agreed with a lot of your points."

"Huh!" The way it came out this time, the syllable was a cheerful one. "Maybe you can repay the favor and analyze Ayn Rand for me, because I still have no idea what she's babbling about."

Rory laughed, "I'll see if I can dig out the copy I started annotating for you once upon a time," she answered and then added. "I tried to take Lane to that record shop you showed me."

"Which one?"

"The place I bought The Go Go's album."

"It closed, unfortunately. The going out business sale was killer though. I'm looking right now at the box of records I got from them for nearly nothing."

"It's too bad it closed," Rory frowned.

"The guy that owned it, the one that was the walking encyclopedia, died; so I think it was his kids that closed the place down."

"I'm glad you called," Jess finally said, when their reminiscences had slowed to a trickle.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I am too. I...uh...I think that maybe if you can't talk to Matt, you should talk to Chris."

"Yeah, that's not a bad idea," he agreed. Then he paused deliberately. "You know, I thought going to therapy twice a week was going to be a huge waste of time; but it wasn't."

"So I shouldn't fight it?"

"No, just go - shop around for a better therapist if the powers that be at Yale are willing to be reasonable; but take what you can from it. It might…" he swallowed, "It might be the best thing you're ever forced to do."

"Fine. But if I have to go to therapy, you have to at least  _consider_  a bachelor's degree."

"Deal," he sighed.


	23. A date

" _ **There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice."**_

―  _ **F. Scott Fitzgerald**_

"Hey, you want to have dinner with my parents? Mom's cooking," Chris asked, when Jess was finally home from his longest day of class. "She's making her stew."

"Yes," Matt and Jess said in unison.

"We're also going to rebuild her garden boxes that were damaged in the storm last month."

Matt let a laugh slip out. "Of course we are," he joked, quirking an eyebrow and tipping his head. "We demand pecan pie," he added after a second's pause.

"And cornbread," Jess added.

"I'll tell Mom your demands," Chris smirked, dialing his mother to tell her they would be coming for dinner.

Chris' mother, Magnolia or Nolie, as everyone called her, could convince anyone to do just about anything if the reward was a sampling of her famous cooking. She made everyone feel welcome with her warm smile and her Georgia peach, southern charm. She had lived in Philadelphia for nearly thirty years, and never lost her soft sweet-as-pie Georgian cadence.

Chris took after his mother in many ways. He had her green eyes and laugh, but most importantly Chris inherited his mother's artistic ability. She was also an extraordinary painter and before she was a wife and mother, she moved to Philadelphia after college to work as an assistant museum curator. While her children were young, she was the art teacher for the local school district and taught classes out of her home on occasion.

Nolie was in her mid-fifties, but looked like she hadn't aged past her thirties, except for a few laugh lines around her eyes that she blamed on her husband. Her pale green eyes sparkled like she was still a young woman on her own for the first time; and her creamy complexion all but glowed. She usually kept her dirty dishwater blonde hair swept up in a ponytail out of her way, and often had paint smeared on her hands.

Chris' sister, Tallulah, or Tilly as she insisted on being called, took after their father. From the rich color of her skin to her adroit, legalistic mind, she was her father - though, it took little acquaintance to realize that she had not inherited his placid temperament.

Wyatt, Chris' father and patriarch of the family, was the living, breathing epitome of the "strong, silent type." He was a man of few words… until you got him in a courtroom. Then he came alive. Then he could get an eyewitness to second guess the things they swore they saw, or a so-called expert to question their carefully thought out testimony.

This was a talent he used time and time again as a criminal defense lawyer. He mostly worked on criminal cases that went forth to the state's court of appeals. His first as a young lawyer had been especially brutal when he fought for the exoneration of a man convicted of murder. Wyatt was the only person who believed he was innocent, and for seven years fought for his release, his payday coming only when the state settled the lawsuit Wyatt filed for his wrongful conviction. He was a revered by other lawyers, respected by judges and despised by DAs... mostly because he had a reputation for going after the right to practice law, when it came to a few particularly derelict district attorneys and investigators.

Wyatt was a sucker for his wife's cooking, and had consequently lost the once rail-thin frame of his youth. He wore fine, round, wire-rim glasses. He had dark brown eyes that could say more than he would ever need to. Chris swore a single look from his father could send a shiver down his spine. Wyatt often used this to his advantage in the courtroom; but with his children, it was to their advantage not to be on the wrong end of his pursed-lipped, steady-eyed stare.

Nolie met Wyatt as a cocktail waitress trying to make ends meet when her job didn't pay enough. Together, Wyatt and Nolie were a formidable team. As parents, they met their children's needs in every way that a child needs their parent. They weathered life's vicious storms the same way they navigated smooth waters: together. Married, in the strongest, most solid form of the word, for twenty-nine years, they were the model to which Tilly and Chris looked when measuring a potential mate. Consequently, both were single.

For Chris, no one could measure up to his mother's cooking, her passion for living, or her ferocious sweetness. Tilly insisted her father was one-of-a-kind, and she would settle only for someone with at least half of her father's character. Mostly, their children saw that their parents were each the other half of a whole; and that kind of love and partnership is rare, both believed,  _impossible_  to emulate.

"Shelly's here," Chris said when he drove up to his parents' house and parked behind the grey Honda. 'You can finally meet her," Chris said looking at Jess.

"So's Talluuuuuulah," Matt said, stretching out the U the way he used to when he was a kid and trying to get a rise out of her. It worked then, and no doubt still would, if she was within hearing range.

"Don't start," Chris warned his friend.

"But it's so much fun to see her turn red."

Chris smirked, " I know, just...remember how much she didn't like Megan. You start in on her and Tilly will go on and on about—"

"The vapid witch," Jess supplied, having heard Tilly's tirade a few times.

"And Jess is quoting the nicer parts of her rant," Chris quipped.

They walked into the house through the garage, the aroma of the peach cobbler and pecan pie Nolie was preparing welcoming their olfactory senses in grand style.

"Two desserts? Ma, you didn't have to go to this much trouble," Chris said, greeting Nolie with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"You're sister demanded peach pie and Matt wanted pecan pie. So I made both."

"It's still too much."

"Shush your mouth Christopher Wyatt," Nolie put her hands on her hips.

"It's not fair to our waistline," Matt piped in.

"And you watch  _your_  mouth, Matthew Phineas Montgomery," she poked his ribs playfully. "You need every scrap of meat  _on_  those bones. That Megan didn't know a frying pan—"

"—from a hole in the wall," Tilly interjected, bouncing into the kitchen, eager to give Matt a hard time. "Hey Jess," she greeted him. "Shelly's here."

"Whatever," Matt grumbled.

"She did you a favor and saved you from a very expensive divorce," Nolie added, a wry smile played on her lips."That girl wasn't worth the ammunition to shoot her."

"Gee mom, tell him how you really feel," Tilly deadpanned.

"You've been talking to my mother," Matt rolled his eyes.

"Yes, and you had  _best_  call her," Nolie pointed her finger at his chest.

"Is Tallulah still dating The Vampire?" he asked attempting to change the subject.

"He was a phlebotomist," Tilly corrected.

"Tomato,  _To-mah-to,"_ Matt fired back.

It's a perfectly respectable profession and not at all comparable to an entitled, spoiled bit—" Tilly started in.

"Okay, you two," Wyatt walked into the kitchen from the living room, followed by a tall young woman that vaguely resembles Tilly. Wyatt shook his son's hand and whispered something in his ear that made Chris smile. "Matt," he nodded in greeting. "Welcome home Jess. Have you met my niece Shelly?"

"It's good to be back," Jess said. "And it's nice to meet you," he greeted her.

"Tilly, this is what a nice guy looks like," Chris said in a low tone, cupping his hand to his mouth in a way that directed this commentary to his cousin while pointing at Jess, "And the background check  _shows_  he  _has_  a job, isn't either married or a four-time-divorcee, doesn't have a string of illegitimate children by several different women, isn't a not-so-much-recovering alcoholic, and  _hasn't_  been in and out of jail his whole life."

Shelly rolled her eyes at her cousin and laughed, "Whatever."

Wyatt moved everyone to the living room, while Nolie got a tray of her peach tea. Many people considered it to be a summer drink; but Nolie's peach tea was always in season.

Shelly sat next to Tilly on the couch. She was beautiful in an almost startling way—not glamorous in any traditional sense that he knew of. Her mouth, and most especially her grin, seemed far too big to properly fit on her face. Her hair was a mass of springs standing on end at every possible, random angle, and hardly seemed to be any one particular color. Her eyes were dark and incisive, and changed shape and expression instant by instant. Her arms and legs were thin and looked almost limp on her body; and her figure, whatever it might look like, was disguised entirely by a huge, chunky sweater. But when you put all of her together, she was somehow… quirky gorgeous. Just looking at her made him involuntarily smile to himself.

"Settling into your classes?" Nolie asked Jess.

"So far, so good."Jess shrugged.

"He's going to be finished in May," Matt added.

"You're graduating?" Nolie questioned, excitedly.

"So then you're going to transfer somewhere?" Wyatt spoke the question as if it wasn't a question at all.

"You should look into Penn State, such a good school, and Christopher never left home," Nolie jumped in eagerly, as if it was a foregone conclusion that Jess would be going to college." Wyatt went to Temple and attended Duquesne for law school, but I see no need for you to move to Pittsburgh. Shelly is in the physician's assistant program at Philadelphia University. My little rebel deserted me for Georgetown, but then came to her senses for law school."

"Mother, I did not  _desert_  you, I got into my first choice," Tilly added.

"But you  _were_  the little rebel," Shelly murmured, leaning closer to her older cousin.

"Unlike you, Little Miss Tattletale with the Shining Halo," Tilly returned with the same friendly barbs.

Jess' drink was passed to him and he outwardly ignored the cousins' banter, addressing instead those who were apparently planning his future out for him, "I… you're like the third or fourth person to ask that," he shifted in his seat.

"Well, it's a logical question," Nolie responded.

"You  _know_  I only tattled to keep from being grounded till doomsday," Shelly rebutted Tilly's name-calling.

"Could'a gone whole hog and joined in," Tillie shrugged, still teasing Shelly.

"Didn't have a death wish,  _thank_  you very much!"

Jess swallowed and set his glass on the table, looking directly at Nolie, even when the fringes of his features expressed amusement at the parallel conversation. "I found out just before Christmas that I was close, and decided to finish."

"But you're not finished sweetie, you've done the job halfway," Nolie said.

"Ma, would you leave him alone?" Chris cut Jess off before he could say anything. "If he wants to transfer, then he will."

"I'll say nothing more, except," Nolie persisted, "Wyatt and I put two kids through college. So when  _or_   _if_  you decide to finish, we can help you navigate..."

"That's more than one thing," Tilly cut her mom off as she tried to continue "and I hear your buzzer going off in the kitchen."

"Tilly," Wyatt said in a low warning.

"You kids best get to work on my garden boxes or there won't be strawberry pie  _or_  fresh salsa this summer," Nolie said before leaving the kitchen. "The sun is going to set soon," she walked into the kitchen, "And Tilly May, the walk needs shovelin'," Nolie said with a sweet smile.

"I'm sorry about her," Chris said when they were out of earshot.

"She isn't the first person who's had advice for my future in the last week."

"Look at it this way," Matt said wrapping his arm around Jess' neck, "Nolie and Wyatt giving you grief about school means you're definitely one of us."

Jess knew the unconditional love Nolie gave her children extended to her children's friends, and he counted himself lucky to be on the receiving end. Maybe the nagging should have  _bothered_  Jess, should have made him want to run the other way... and in the past, it would have. But Jess assumed that this was what it was like to have a mother who cared. It's not like Liz couldn't nag, she was, in fact, a champion in the art. Jess just never thought it came from a place of love or wanting to see him do better, whereas everything Nolie did was out of love for her family.

Hard as it was to put a finger on the reason why, from Wyatt, he took it with a grain of salt. Perhaps it was  _given_  with a grain of salt. Much as he opened his home willingly and extended an open invitation, when it came to Wyatt, Jess always felt a touch as if he was there on approval...and that watchful eyes were upon him...even a barely audible growl of warning, lest he prove to be the sort of visitor who might bring harm to the pups in his den. Matt, having long been one of those pups, could very well think that Jess had been granted the same status; and in Nolie's mind and heart, maybe he had; but in Wyatt's, Jess was privately certain, at the very least, the adoption was still pending. And that was only right. As Truncheon's unofficial legal counsel, he was one of the few people privy to some of the less favorable circumstances preceding Jess' emigration from New York to Philadelphia. And Jess was aware, to misquote L.M. Montgomery, that "does [give] a person reason to doubt."

The garden boxes were easy to put together and Chris and Matt conveniently left Shelly and Jess together. Luckily, she was easy to talk to and they had a lot in common.

"So now I've finally met the famous Jess Mariano," Shelly said as they were almost done.

"You mean infamous," he corrected.

"Oh, definitely not," she laughed. "My cousin  _and_  Matt have done nothing but sing your praises."

Jess rolled his eyes. "God, that's embarrassing. Yeah, they've been trying to introduce us since Thanksgiving," he said ruefully.

"Ah, yes, not long after my most recent loser boyfriend turned out to be married."

"Really?"

"Yep, I found out when his wife confronted me at my apartment. He  _told_  me she had left him  _two years before_. That's when Chris and Matt got into their heads they were going prove to me that 'bad boys' do not comprise the entirety of the male portion of the species under age 40. Thesis statement:  _Decent guys exist._  So they spent Thanksgiving telling me all about you."

"About  _me?"_ Jess raised his eyebrow.

Shelly nodded slowly with a bemused expression. "Exhibit 1A."

"No pressure though?" Jess mused.

"You should have figured out by now that Spongebob and Patrick usually have some scheme they're working on." She was silent for a minute.

Jess laughed at her description of Matt and Chris. "Oh, I know."

"The meddling thing, he gets from Nolie," she added.

Jess stifled a laugh.

"So are you going to ask me out?"

"Was I supposed to? I thought I was just the prototype?

She smiled a coy smile, "Why look for a mere copy when the prototype is standing in front of me? Or is Chris wrong about you?"

"A date, huh? How about I take you to dinner, and you take me to see that band you told me about?"Jess answered back.

"I thought you'd never ask," she smiled.

"I suppose I'll need your phone number if you want me to call you," Jess said.

"Dinner," Wyatt poked his head out to the garage to announce. "You kids come wash up."

"Ask Chris for it, he started this," Shelly said, slipping into the house, leaving Jess outside stunned that she had really just asked him out.

* * *

Jess' phone rang the next evening, "Hello, Anna?" he answered.

"Hi," she said.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I well…" she stammered. "You need to call April."

"What? Why?"

"Because she doesn't believe me."

"Believe…" Jess asked, leading her on.

"Believe me when I tell her about the conversation we had before you left."

"Oh," he answered, thankful he was alone, or at least hoped he was. For the moment, he was roommate-less.

"I told her about our conversation and she thinks you won't ever see her again."

"But, I…"

"She needs to hear it from you," Anna interrupted." I came down really hard on her and rightfully so, because prying into people's lives even for science…" she paused as her tone changed. "Well...anyway, it doesn't seem to matter what I say."

"I was planning to see if she really wanted to go bowling."

"I know, and I told her we could have you over for dinner again. But then she tells me I don't understand because I didn't see your face when you guys were at the park…"

"I came to talk to you for that reason," Jess said, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I think she should hear it from you."

Jess sighed, "Okay, she does need to hear it from me," putting himself in the shoes of a twelve-year-old, he could see why Anna's word wasn't enough.

"Thank you," she said. "You really should come again for dinner and bring your uncle this time."

"I'll be back in Connecticut for the weekend."

"Dinner's at six. And bring another pie"

"Okay," he answered. "I will."

"Goodbye, Jess."

"Goodbye, Anna," he said and hung up the phone.

Jess stared at his phone for a second as Matt walked into the kitchen. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he said, getting a glass of water.

"Huh? Oh, uh, no no ghost...just..."

"Anna...April's mom?"

"How did you know?"

"I just overheard you say goodbye to her and I only see you make that face when talking about her."

"What face? I don't make a face."

"Seriously, you make a face, like  _I don't want to be talking to this woman, but here I am talking to her."_

"You're crazy," he paused, "And Yes, she called. And apparently, I have to now convince April I don't hate her."

"Why would she think that?" he asked.

"Just...there was stuff...during her research phase that she found…" Jess swallowed, "...I wouldn't want people to know about."

Matt nodded, "Got it," he paused as if in deep thought, "you're doing okay with this stuff?"

"I'm…" Jess sighed…" apparently handling it in an appropriate manner, not that there is an appropriate manner for long lost sisters, but I'm not doing it wrong."

Matt squinted at him. "Is that an opinion, or did someone qualified with a nice couch tell you that?"

"Yeah... someone with a nice couch," he admitted. A scoffing noise and a bitter sigh followed. "Can't believe I'm back on the dang couch… voluntarily." His eyes were dark.

Matt had turned to leave the room, but stopped, turning back around. "You know," looked at Jess, a seriousness about his demeanor that Jess rarely saw, "I rag on my mom a lot… but, at my worst moment, on the worst day of my life; a time when I fell back into the deepest hole that had ever swallowed me, she was the one who told me:  _Never forget the battles you've fought and won._ " He paused for a beat. "I think those words… actually saved me…. And I think that you really need to remember them too."

Jess took a heavy breath, his friend's words sinking in, and nodded, his throat turning scratchy.

It was at that moment, Chris climbed the stairs, poking his head in. He took note of the scene before him and hung back, actually descending a single step out of respect for an apparently private moment.

Matt saw Chris behind Jess and shifted his weight to his other foot, taking a swinging step around to face Jess fully. "So are you really gonna take Shelly out?" he asked, effectively swinging the tone of the conversation in the same movement.

Jess opened his eyes wider at the shift in cadence. "She wants to go to dinner," he shrugged.

Matt and Chris exchanged a look. " _She_  said you guys were going to dinner and a concert."

"Yup… that too," Jess replied and stuck out his lip, as if to say  _what of it?_

Chris cleared his throat, climbing the final step and fully entering the room. "She's my little baby cousin... my uncle John's youngest daughter, the youngest of my twenty-seven cousins, and my grandmother's undisputed favorite grandchild."

"Tell me you don't want me to go," Jess said, taking note both of Chris' presence and his words.

"No, because if I do that, Shelly will be upset. But, I do want you to remember that she has a history of really bad boyfriends."

"We're going to dinner and a concert, just as friends, that's all."

"But you like her?" Chris challenged.

"Yeah, she's cool...attractive...seems nice," he admitted shrugging. "But that doesn't mean a whole lot right now. It's not whiz-bang, gobsmacked, gonna turn whirlwind romance. Just...she's nice."

"At least we know he can talk to girls," Matt piped in, a wry smile playing on his lips. "And, didn't you introduce Jess to her as 'what a nice guy looks like?' I mean, isn't Jess the sort of guy you would  _want_  with our little Shelly?"

"That's why I introduced them. But it doesn't mean that I or my cousins won't kick his ass if he proves me wrong."

"Duly noted," Jess answered.

* * *

Jess pulled on his shirt, looked in the mirror once more and hoped he looked okay. It had been a long time since he even cared, much less thought it necessary to impress another person, more specifically, a female person.

 _Hey, what are you doing?_ Rory sent in a text to Jess as he finished getting ready.

 _I think this is supposed to be a date with Chris' cousin,_ he texted Rory back.

_LOL Seriously? Have fun. How are you not sure if this is a date?_

_I've met her once, and apparently, Chris and Matt have put me forward as their example and prototype of: 'a decent guy.'_

_So… best behavior. Got it,_ she returned.

_Dinner, a concert. Datelike? Yes. Actual date? Not sure._

_Well, if it walks like a date…_

He exhaled an almost-laugh.  _Yeah, yeah. We'll see._

_Have fun…_

He flicked his eyebrows and tipped his head.  _Yeah, we'll see._

When no further answer was forthcoming, Jess looked back at the mirror. He tried not to think about how long it had been since he's been on an actual date. After he left Stars Hollow for California, he hadn't been in  _any_  relationship, at least not in the strictest sense of the word. There had been a few potential, maybe, could-have-beens, but nothing serious, or even potentially serious.

He went to the movies and had some late night walks on the beach with a girl he met in California; but in the end, she was little more than a clumsy bandage for his broken heart. In fact, for the most part, any "thing" or "potential thing" with a girl from that point on, turned out to be another variation on the Rory band-aid—a distraction, a substitute—inevitably, a poor one.

Pre-Doris, he'd figured that these rebounds and meaningless diversions were simply his fate, and frankly, the only attention he was worth. Thankfully, he'd grown. Despite the endless grief Matt and Chris gave him for his non-existent personal life; he wasn't interested in hookups, or whatever "benefits" someone might be willing to offer him. He didn't want "a fling" with someone. He'd done that, and there was no meaning in it...no substance. Just a different sort of emptiness. It was the same emptiness he'd watched his mother go through his whole life with her never-ending revolving door of guys...and he wanted more. It would be so easy to take after her and follow the crummy example she set for him. His one problem/saving grace was that in at least one way, Jess was painfully aware, he was Luke.

No short-lived, going-nowhere relationships, combined with work, classes, deadlines, and the fact that no non-fling options seemed to present themselves, meant he wound up having… basically, nothing. Nothing but ridicule and offers to set him up on blind dates. His typical response: "Otherwise known as my own private circle of hell-table for two."

He could have gone to a bar and met someone. He could have taken "history-class girl" up on her offer. She'd  _wanted_  to date, and made it very  _clear_  to him what she wanted; but at that point, even the  _idea_  of the pursuit of romance, or love, or anything resembling it, with a relative stranger, made him weary.

The thing was, Shelly didn't seem like a stranger—from the first second on—the moment he laid eyes on her, there had been no one since Rory who caught his attention quite like she had."You're gonna be late," Chris said when Jess emerged from the bathroom into their shared living space.

"She's meeting me here," Jess said.

"A clandestine tryst at your apartment?" Matt teased.

"She's still my cousin," Chris glowered, throwing a rag at Matt. "And her brother is scarier than me, by the way," he said, turning to give Jess a hard look, "all state linebacker."

"I've  _met_  Vince," Jess reminded him, blinking exaggeratedly, "and I would agree— _not_  somebody you'd wanna cross paths with, pissed, in a dark alley."

The bell on Truncheon's door chimed, effectively interrupting the exchange, and after a " _Hey,_ " called upward, Shelly climbed the stairs.

The first thing Jess noticed was that she'd chosen to dress casual, in dark jeans and a sweater, with her curly hair pinned to the top of her head. She had on very little makeup, just as she did when she was at her uncle's. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"Sponge-Bob, Patrick," she greeted Matt and Chris. "Ready?" she asked Jess.

"Peppermint Patty," the boys greeted back in unison.

"Yep," Jess answered. "Let's go."

"Have him home by eleven," Chris teased.

"Don't do anything I would do," Matt started, as they were walking towards the door, "on the first date."

"That statement could encompass so many things," Shelly called back over her shoulder, rolling her eyes.

"How does Thai food sound?" Jess asked once they were out of earshot of Matt and Chris.

"You'll never have to ask me that twice," she said solemnly, eyes sparkling.

"Good," he smiled. "I know a place." He steered them towards the nearest SEPTA terminal, and they headed uptown in the direction of the concert venue.

"Oh," Shelly said when she saw the restaurant, "I love this place."

"Good." Jess bit his lips together as he was apt to do when a smile came too readily.

They were seated right away in a booth Jess requested when he made reservations.

"I usually just order the pad thai and chicken satay," Jess said when they sat down.

"It's good," Shelly nodded her head in agreement, looking over the menu. "That's all you ever get?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Okay," she said looking over the menu, "tonight, no ordering what you normally order. Get something different," she insisted. "Let's be just a  _little_  adventurous."

"Okay," he picked up the menu, and read it over. "Have you ever had Red Curry with the prawns and pineapple?"

"Nope, but that sounds good" she answered. "How about Gai Tod Takrai? It's lemongrass chicken."

"Nope," Jess answered looking at the menu still. "One more dish to round things out," he looked up and down the menu. "Have you ever had the….ummm... steamed fish cake?" he suggested with a caution-to-the-wind shrug.

"Now you're getting the idea." Her smile lit up her entire face. "The hotter the better," she said slyly and with a coy smirk and crossed her legs and leaned closer to him.

He liked her flirting with him, he liked the way she played with her earring when she was nervous or there was a lull in the conversation, and he really liked that this had quickly turned into a bona fide date. When the waitress came, they ordered and settled into easy conversation. Shelly talked about traveling and her school, the volunteer medical work she was doing, and why she wanted to be a traveling Physician's Assistant.

"The day I found out I could travel the world and do what I love, I knew I had to come home and get to work," she said, her brown eyes filled with passion.

"Yeah, yeah I get that. I wish back when I was in  _high school_ someone would have told me I could actually get  _paid_  to read," he shrugged, as the waitress appeared to deliver their food. They loaded up their plates—everything smelled delicious.

"What about other people reading what you wrote?" she questioned.

"Yeah, that's kinda cool too," he admitted. "But it's odd, I don't know if I will ever get used to it," Jess took his first bite of the fish cake.

"I'm a fan of the Red Curry," Shelly declared on her first bite.

"You've made me a fan," he agreed, enjoying the way her entire face lit up when she got excited. It was endearing and adorable. He could get used to seeing her make that face and wondered what other ways he might contrive to see it on her again...and again.

He leaned back in the persimmon-colored vinyl seat, inhaling sharply before taking another bite of the spicy sweetness. "So…" he asked after a couple of mouthfuls, "what's with the penchant for so-called 'bad boys'?" He couldn't help but smirk as he asked, for reasons of his own.

"Ugh," she leaned backward in turn, laughing but obviously finding the topic somewhat groan-worthy. "First off, that is how Matthew and Chris refer to them," she clarified.

Jess nodded deeply, indicating that he understood the distinction.

"I, on the other hand, have been slowly but surely coming to the conclusion that all guys are jerks—present company tentatively excluded."

He raised his glass as if in salute to the sentiment, and refrained from the almost-made observation that she was jaded for one so young. After all: pot—kettle. "Yeah, having grown up with a single mom who dated all kinds, and spending the rest of my life as a peer in their midst...I'd hafta call that at  _least_  98% true."

Evidently, she'd been expecting anything but such ready agreement, and the laugh of surprise caused Shelly to half-inhale a bit of curry. She made a quick, if not graceful recovery, hacking it into a napkin and then trying to pretend it hadn't happened, ignoring his look of concern and strangled laughter. She resumed the previous discussion, likely more from a desire to redirect his attention than from an eagerness over the topic. "Then again, there was an element of wanting to live down my reputation."

"Your reputation?" Jess raised one eyebrow, having roughly gathered the opposite supposition, both from Chris and Matt, and from the conversation he'd overheard between her and Tillie the week before.

"I grew up as one of three girls in a  _sea_  of boys," she said dramatically, "otherwise known as my cousins and sometimes Matt," she clarified, when Jess' eyebrows indicated confusion. "And I had the dubious honor of being not only the youngest, but the one with the strictest dad in the  _en_ tire planet."

Jess nodded, trying to, but not following what this had to do with either their main topic of conversation or having a reputation that required living down.

"Meaning that when the boys went on wild adventures, I had to keep my clothes clean. Meaning that when Tillie and Tamara got boyfriends, or dyed hair, or piercings, I got stricter rules to make sure I  _wouldn't._  Along with serious beyond serious instructions to tell my dad  _everything_  they were up to, or  _I_  was grounded."

Jess' eyes widened slightly, and he couldn't make up his mind whether to feel sorry for her or more than somewhat jealous. He settled for understanding, and kept listening.

"So I had the shiniest halo on the block. And was often avoided like the plague."

One corner of his mouth twitched as he tried not to think about another girl whose entire town made a practice of shining her halo on a regular basis.

"As you can imagine, that got a little old after awhile. And so, when I finally got to an age when boyfriends were no longer a dirty word, the ones who had bright, shiny halos to match weren't… that appealing," she ended tentatively, cringing as if Jess might find this off-putting somehow.

"Bet Daddy loved  _that,"_ Jess commented, barely holding back a smirk.

"He didn't exactly always knnnnowwww…"

Jess bit his lips together and his eyes danced. "Okay…" he braced his hands on the table, "I can't keep this up," he choked, trying not to laugh outright. "You're telling me…that Chris and Matt...have offered me up as  _the non-_ bad boy, clean-cut, all around decent guy….example?" he looked at her seriously, "their  _contrast_  to all the guys you didn't want your dad to find out about?"

She nodded with a worried look in the large brown eyes that seemed to make up her entire face in that moment. "Basically, yes."

Jess frowned for the space of several seconds. "Could I get that in  _writing?_ "

Relieved laughter bubbled from across the table. "What?"

"Seriously, I need it  _signed_  and  _witnessed_  and  _registered_  by a Notary Public!"

"Okay, I'm lost."

"Well, for starters, there's a motorcycle jacket in my closet that I bought just so my ex-girlfriend's mother could say, 'I told you so.'"

Across the table, Shelly pulled back, eyes squinting. "That doesn't make sense."

"Really?" he smiled. "I thought it made about as much sense as deliberately going out and looking for somebody to put a few dents and scratches into the halo for appearance's sake."

"You mean…"

"Had a whole town that thought I was the devil incarnate just because I was an undeniably Italian kid from the wrong part of New York City." He shrugged. "In New York, I was basically your typical nerd trying to fly under the radar so thugs and teachers don't bother noticing you."

"You were sick of being in trouble for nothing at all," she surmised, the tone of her voice indicative of the pieces clicking together.

"Pretty much."

"And it was better to give them a reason to think what they were going to think anyway?"

"By George, I think she's got it."

"You know what this means?" Shelly asked.

"Hm?"

"That I can keep the dings and scratches in my halo, and you can keep your motorcycle jacket, and no one has to be any the wiser."

"I like the way you think," he said with a flashed raise of the eyebrows, popping the last steamed fish cake into his mouth.

"I'll remember that when I write your note."

When the check came, she reached for it quickly with an innocent forthrightness; but he caught her wrist gently with a deliberate look and a half smile that told her better than words could have, that there was  _no way_  she was paying for this.

She swallowed, and bit her lower lip, eyes flitting nervously away; and he noticed as he hadn't the moment before, the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips. He felt himself swallow, and he took a quick breath, releasing her wrist and reaching for his wallet.

Once their meal was paid for, they walked to  _Johnny Brenda's_ , a local concert venue/bar that hosted local alternative bands and served artisan beer. The stage had two levels, a ground floor with standing room, where people could dance or get closer to the artists, and an upper deck that served drinks and had a few tables where people could sit and listen to the music. Upstairs from that was a separate bar that served a full menu and had a DJ.

Jess and Shelly ended up on the ground floor as the band began to play. He lost himself in the music...and Shelly. He liked watching her get into the crazy rhythm, the way she bobbed her head to the band covered Pavement and Fugazi and she was right in the thick of the crowd, and he loved watching her have fun.

At the end of the night, they parted ways. As her train pulled away, he felt the buzz of his phone.  _So how was it?_ He saw the text from Rory.  _Was it a date?_

" _Good, we had fun."_ he text her back. He kept waiting for a response from Rory as he made his way home. " _It was a date."_ He stared at the words for a brief second before pressing send.


	24. Rhett, Scarlett and Hot Chick Rory

" _Everybody said, "Follow your heart". I did, it got broken"_

―  _ **Agatha Christie**_

Rory waited nervously for Honor Huntzberger, who'd called her and wanted to go shopping.

"Rory," Honor greeted with a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she said curtly, avoiding eye contact.

"You're a bad liar," Honor sat down in the seat.

The waitress stopped at the table to give them a menu and take their drink order.

"Okay, well then, I'm getting better at pretending I'm okay," Rory said. "But that's not important, how's Josh? And the wedding plans?"

"Logan," she rolled her eyes. "I swear he's an idiot…"

"It's easier to pretend I'm doing better when his name doesn't come up."

"Wedding is coming along," Honor amended, quickly changing the subject. "It's still on schedule, Josh is good, we bought a house, and Josh said his father will make him partner after the wedding."

Rory smiled, closed-lipped, nodding blithely along. "Good."

A waitress came to take their order and deliver their drinks.

"And we decided that we want kids right away," Honor continued, "because it will make my mother  _crazy_  to be called grandma so soon after I get married."

Rory took a sip of water, nodding again, and said, "Yeah, that would do it," while trying very hard to hide the bitterness she still had for Shira.

"Rory," Honor said taking her hand, "you're not okay. I can see it in your eyes. Is it my brother?"

"I thought you promised we wouldn't—" Rory started.

"He's a jerk," Honor interjected with warmth.

"Yeah," Rory shrugged tightly. "Not much I can do about it now."

"I'm sorry," Honor whispered, as their food was served.

"It happens," Rory shrugged. " I mean I knew he wasn't a relationship guy; and I think he wanted to be, but he isn't; and I'm not going to force him into something he doesn't want or know how to be."

"He won't swallow his pride?" Worry and disappointment colored Honor's words.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that; he's been sending flowers and coffee carts my way."

"Good for him," she smiled. "I didn't realize he'd come to his senses and followed my advice."

"You mean you were the one who told him to bombard me with flowers, candy, a coffee cart, books, a huge teddy bear, and Harry and David fruit?"

"I told him he should be on bended knee  _begging_  for your forgiveness—that he should  _kiss_  the ground you walk on."

"Well, he apparently didn't get that part of the message; because there hasn't been any asking for forgiveness, just the Fed-Ex guy delivering countless, meaningless things that are slowly but surely crowding me out of my dorm," Rory said bitterly.

Honor shook her head in disapproval. "He's a coward," she spat out with clipped vitriol. "He has the  _perfect girl_  in the  _palm of his hand_  and he lets her get away."

"He…" Rory shook her head in disgust, "...it feels like he's just trying to buy his way back into my affections, which-" she grimaced, lips tightening into a hard expression. "I'd rather he actually talk to me."

"Exactly. And, after what he's done, if he's going to use his JP Morgan Palladium in a play to purchase your forgiveness, why waste time with flowers and fruit, much less teddy bears? This level of screw-up definitely calls for top-end jewelry, fashion pieces, probably a car, private jet trip to Paris or Rome—the works! If you hold out long enough, he  _might_  just buy you a yacht."

"That's not what I meant." Rory averted her gaze to one of the waiters who was delivering a two-foot banana split to a teenage boy who had fork and spoon drawn, ready to dig in.

"I'm not saying that he deserves to be forgiven; just that he's doing a pretty chintzy job of trying to ask your forgiveness, all things considered."

"What do you mean," Rory asked, eyes playing across the table, "all things considered? What 'all things'?"

" _All_.  _Things_ ," Honor said again, leaning forward significantly, as if Rory should know what she was talking about. Sitting back again, she looked ceiling-ward as if looking to a higher source for some sort of explanation of her brother's behavior. "I mean, it was bad enough having to pretend not to notice Claude and Alexandra hanging all over him outside the rehearsal hall; but I actually  _walked in on_  him and Megan. Little Scarlett should have been  _glad_  I wasn't Rhett coming to pick her up…"

"What!" Rory exclaimed, feeling as if a refrigerator had been slammed into her, breaking her ribs and knocking the air from her chest.

"The girl was practically engaged to Rhett— mean I don't think his  _name_  is Rhett—but her fiance or almost fiance was supposedly picking her up… it's Mark or Daniel or some other biblical name."

" _What?_ " Rory wheezed again, growing red in the cheeks.

"I mean, you know he's been chasing after everything in or out of a skirt, nursing his supposed wounds, even though they were self-inflicted— _he's_  the one who broke up with  _you!_ —or, at least, I think he is. Did I get that the wrong way around?" she asked, only then looking up to see that Rory's face had just gone ashen.

When Rory didn't say a word for a good thirty seconds, Honor spoke up again, "You didn't know?" she asked softly. "Oh, Rory, I am so sorry…"

Rory could only shake her head as her heart quickened and she felt her ears grow hot, no doubt nearly glowing red as they did so. "I…" she spoke, in a low, sharp tone. "I need to go." Her hands shook as she pulled a twenty from her purse, slamming it onto the table in a fury. In her panicked rush to leave, her bracelet caught on the tablecloth, and she pulled glass and silverware along with her. Pausing only to slip the bracelet off her wrist, she didn't look back, even as Honor trailed close behind, calling to her.

* * *

For Jess, the rush of the new semester was just beginning. He left his Biology lab walking with a brisk stride. He hadn't had time to eat breakfast that morning, and a quick sandwich was probably going to be the extent of his lunch for the day. After the meeting he was running late for, he had editing that still needed to be done for the current issue of the 'zine, and Matt needed it finished by the next morning. There was a short story due for his fiction writing class that he was hoping would double as his contribution to the upcoming special edition of the 'zine he was in charge of putting together.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, he had tutoring at the school and he was supposed to have his first phone appointment with Doris. He was playing phone tag with Shelly, trying to find a night for them to go see a movie. Rory would also probably call him later. They talked every night that week, usually not any more than an hour, but it was becoming something he looked forward to—when necessary, even worked his crazy schedule around.

There was also a cover art concept meeting that Chris insisted he sit in on. He hadn't done any editing for the novel in question. He hadn't met the author or even picked it out of the slush pile for consideration. Nevertheless, Chris insisted, now that he was a full-time employee and on salary, Jess needed to be a part of every aspect of their process, even if he never touched the work.

He greeted Matt and Chris, running into the apartment the three of them shared, needing to change into his Matt-approved suit for the meeting he didn't want to sit through.

Chris looked up from the table to acknowledge him and went back to eating his lunch.

"Your jacket is wrinkled," Matt said, in lieu of a greeting. "And don't get anything on your tie."

"Ignore him," Chris piped in, his eyes not leaving the page he was reading. "Monty's in town and wants to have lunch."

"Oh," Jess said, grabbing a napkin so he wouldn't get peanut butter and jelly from his sandwich on his tie.

Matt scoffed, closing the door Jess had just breezed through.

"Who do you want to invite to the open house?" Chris asked, swallowing a bite.

"Just Luke and my mom," Jess answered him. "Oh, and Rory."

"Rory? From the Gargleblaster night?" Matt asked, having finally looked up, and thus stopped mispronouncing the referenced beverage.

"She's a good friend," Jess answered, trying to diffuse the wild impression of Rory Matt seemed to have come away with from that night.

"And you're totally gonna use the 'writer schtick' on her," Chris teased, wiping a smear of mustard from his forearm with a paper towel.

"Impress her with the published novel, tell her you started out in the storeroom, stacking boxes," Matt added teasingly, "a rags to riches story."

"What about Shelly?" Chris said with only partial mocking. "You gonna break my baby cousin's heart over some chick you woo with illusions of literary success?"

"I…" Jess rolled his eyes, "Would you back off? She's an  _old friend_." At their dry expressions of disbelief, he continued, "she helped me debunk the Ellen Taylor manuscript," he said, trying to get them off her back, "so we  _all_  owe her one."

Ready with a dirty joke, a mischievous grin played on Matt's lips, "She…" he started, "...wait… _what?_ " he exclaimed, as he processed all of what Jess said.

"She helped me figure the whole thing out," Jess shrugged nonchalantly.

Matt and Chris stood frozen in place, "Rory," Matt repeated numbly. "Rory? Hot-Chick Rory? The one who called your phone and I talked to?"

"I really doubt she appreciates the nickname; but yeah, her."

"But…" Matt started. "You…" his air seemed to run out.

"I think what he is trying to say is—" Chris interrupted.

"...she helped you?" Matt blurted out, incredulously.

"She agreed that I was right that something wasn't right about the manuscript; and then she helped me look for the book it was ripping off."

"So, you showed this girl an unsigned author's manuscript when you suspected something was  _off..._ " Matt said back, his tone tight and his eyes began to blaze. "You seriously played the ' _I need help with this manuscript'_  card? Jeez, I take back what I said about your inability to talk to girls, I hope she really is hot," he snarled.

"Not…like that…" Jess answered uneasily, backing away from Matt as his growing anger radiated off him. "I...I showed it to her because...I knew she would be helpful."

"You have  _lost_ …...your  _freaking..._   _ **MIND!?**_ " Matt's tone was scalding. "I don't have time to stay and yell at you," he finished through clenched teeth, stalking out of the apartment and slamming the door behind him.

Jess stared at the door, unmoving.

* * *

After her lunch with Honor, Rory went back to her apartment in tears. Her sadness turned to rage when she saw another vase sitting in front of her door. Storming into her apartment, she began making trips, grabbing all the flowers, candies, books, balloons, stuffers animals, fruit, and the trinkets of all sorts Logan had sent her in a steady stream, trying to win back her affection—never summoning the decency even to admit to her all that she had to forgive him  _for._  She stuffed them into trash bag after trash bag, lugging them each down the sidewalk, hefting and then hurling them into the dumpster. Boyfriend boxes be hanged—she took all the photographs, the boutonniere from her grandparents' vow renewal, the gorilla mask, various empty champagne bottles…. everything from that apartment that she could mentally tie to one Logan Huntzberger made its way into one of the dumpsters within walking distance. Lastly, dizzy from exertion and adrenaline, lungs and muscles burning, she sat down on the curb and very deliberately blocked his number from her phone, marked his email address as spam, unfollowed, unfriended, and removed every trace of a connection she could between his life and her own.

The next time a delivery man came to her house, she refused to sign for the order and asked Paris to do the same.

A few days later Logan appeared at her door in person, just as she was coming home, a large box of donuts in his hands. "I just need you to listen to me."

"Go away, I don't want to hear anything you have to say," Rory said, attempting to unlock the cumbersome locks, and finding them more unyielding than ever before.

"Rory, please," he begged. "I went to your mother. She wrote this for you," he told her, holding up a white envelope. "I have no idea what it says. It's on Dragonfly stationery."

"' _Please?'_ " She glared at him. "'Please' what? Please overlook the fact that you cheated, that you slept with all of your sister's friends?"

"I didn't cheat," he defended. "And how would you find out about any of that?

Rory glared at him " _Really?_ " she asked, her tone strained. "Does Megan's  _boyfriend_  see it that way?" She pinned him in place with her eyes. "And  _don't_  you  _realize_  that asking me  _how I found out_ is a blatant admission of  _guilt?_ "

Logan couldn't look at her, "I didn't…" he started to say, and then began earnestly to plead. "Look, I  _love_  you. I said I was wrong and I was sorry. What more do you need? I want to make this right. Make us right. It's why I went to your mother."

"It's too late, I'm done."

"We were broken up," he tried reasoning.

"No,  _you_  were broken up," Rory snapped back at him. " _Don't think_  for one second that you can  _Ross-Geller-we-were-on-a-break_  me and get away with it!  _Neither of us_  said  _anything_  about breaking up. You just went and banged almost a chapter of  _The Daughters of the Daughters of the American Revolution_  for the fun of it! How'd you do it?" she continued, her volume rising with each sentence. "We were only apart for like  _two seconds_ , and you managed to sleep with every one of your sister's friends; and  _who knows_  how many others 'everything in and out of a skirt' entails! How did you even do that? I mean, did you work them in shifts? Were there charts? signals? B-12 shots?" She ranted at him, her anger taking over.

"I was depressed. I was lonely. I was upset. And there weren't that many. I've known these girls forever. It was just companionship, okay? It meant nothing," he answered simply.

"Excuses and lies, all lies. Or if it's true, just proof that you still treat women like Kleenex. Nothing has changed. I can't do it anymore."

Logan sighed defeated. "I went to see your mother," he repeated, holding out the envelope.

"And that's supposed to get you  _what, exactly?_ " she demanded, tiredly.

"A  _second_  of reconsideration."

Rory shook her head in anger, "You aren't getting the message. It's not working.  _Go_ —I'm done." She grabbed the large box of donuts, throwing them at him, one, sometimes two or three, at a time, to make him go away.

"Ro— _Rory!"_ Logan objected as she pelted him with pastry.

" _Take a hint!"_ she shouted, glad he had several dozen so she hadn't yet run out of ammo. " _Go—and take your DONUTS and your FLOWERS and your BOOKS and COFFEE CART and FRUIT and ALEXANDRA and MEGAN and CLAUDE and the rest of your entourage WITH you!"_

She opened the door to her apartment and slammed it as hard she could. A second later, she opened it again. "Oh, and  _by the way_ ," she yelled at Logan, who had begun picking up the donuts off the floor, "if you want it, you can fish your $30,000 Birkin Bag out of the dumpster if it's still there, so you can get an 'I love you' from Megan!" and she slammed the door behind her.

The next time she opened her door, there was nothing but a single envelope left on the welcome mat—large, creamy white, and bearing  _The Dragonfly Inn_  insignia.


End file.
